#and stop twisting his words and actions to suit your own fantasy!

[plutoloulou]

Throwback to this tweet because it told me all I need to know about his opinion on those type of fans 👀 (psa, I'm not saying all of them, I mean the harassing ones)

My guy is tired and has been for years

[swan-orpheus]

andor ep. 7 incoherence

How does this freaking show just keep getting better, holy $%^&. This is not a question. There is so much to unpack. I did not see the twist where Cassian is minding his own business on Space Miami Beach (wtf kind of name is Keef??) and he gets randomly arrested for not doing anything, but well being himself. Racial profiling lol. Fuck the Empire. Now we know how he winds up in prison again. From six months to six years?? This episode was so much. 

Vel worried about Cinta who is trying to hide from the big ass star destroyer and Kleya being brutal about the compromises they have to make. “They’ll all be remembered.” Mon Mothma and her childhood friend, Tay who is obviously so DONE with the Empire and thinks that his old friend has changed, living it up in high society in the spotlight and loving it only to find out....it’s all a lie. The drama. All of the times that Mon reminds him to “Smile”. You need to leave Perrin and run away with him lmfao, not going to lie, I found them oddly adorable. 

Luthen smiling constantly and being all, “that’s right, people died and more will die, isn’t this monk cudgel excellently crafted? *smiles*” I really hope that her driver is secretly on her side and helps her in future. Chandrilans unite against the Empire!  Palps name drop. Gave me chills. It’s better that we only hear whispers of him. Makes it all the more creepy imo.

Senator Mon “I’ve learned from Palpatine.” Mothma

(she did not refer to him as “Emperor”, good for her.)

Coruscant continues to look its incredible, beautiful, brutalist self! 

Syril tailoring the collar on his brown suit to be high like an Imperial uniform.

DEDRA WRECKED BLEVIN!!! I had a feeling that Major Partagaz privately admired her. Blevin had such a sour look on his face. Dedra just flat out said, “Yes. I totally broke the rules. Deal with it.” Blevin is totally playing so close to the rules probably out of fear of being discriminated against and Dedra is the overachieving student for similar reasons and the Empire has them pitted against one another. I love the dynamics always at work in this show. It’s cruelly accurate. 

How cute is it that Cassian would sneak over the wall to see Bix when they were younger? They were that young couple.

And poor Maarva so freaking traumatized by what the Republic did that she can’t walk down past the square on Rix Road and not see her husband hanging? But then she hears about the heist and is all, “I may be old but FUCK IT. I’m gonna LIVE!” and just strolls down the road SMILING. All of the various meanings of a smile in this episode. WOW. Cassian! I know you are trying to keep her safe but aflkjalfalfll;; you are one of the reasons that that heist even succeeded at all, she was standing inches from the reason that the Rebellion has a snowball’s chance in hell and she doesn’t even KNOW. 

“Stop searching for your sister. It’s a fantasy.”  ;___________;

The KX Series droid repeating the word “hang” as he is choking Cassian. And it ends with Syril working in a horribly dystopian, futuristic cubical farm, slow pan so that we can witness the full scope of the horror. (He works in Fuel Purity, I have thoughts.) 

All the ways in which this episode contrasted action versus inaction, being peaceful versus being aggressive and the consequences of both depending on who and what you are within the Empire. You can do nothing or be a pacifist and still get %^&*ed over and murdered for it. CLEM. </3

This show went so hard. I love it all the more.  

Also, ADMIRAL YULAREN HAS LOGGED TF ON !!!!!!!!! He is so sinister if you are used to how cordial he is with Thrawn and Faro et al.  My SW Novel reading arse is so happy right now! 

THIS SHOW. 

[after-witch]

The Pain Sweeps Through [Yandere Jareth x Reader]

Title: The Pain Sweeps Through [Yandere Jareth x Reader]

Synopsis: 

You’re not the first one he’s brought into the Goblin King’s Labyrinth. You’re not the first one to best him, to get to the center and beat him at his own game. But you are the first one to beat him and give in: “Fear me, love me, do as I say and I will be your slave.” What happens when the magic fades, and you’re left with is the muddled consequences of your decision? 

Word Count: 2550

Notes: yandere, kidnapped, drugging, mentions of noncon

You hate the ballroom. You hate the gowns and the glitter and the music. You hate all of it. 

How long have you been here? Time is fuzzy and of no consequence here, and the clock--you’ve planted yourself in front of it, staring--never behaves as it should. The novelty of the whites and golds and pinks of the ballroom, of the swirling dancers and their impossibly endless stamina, has long worn off. Well before this particular peach, well before this particular ball, spinning and swirling together like rainwater down a drain.

The gown that you once admired, that once had you blushing and twirling in its beauty and delicacy and shimmering glitter, weighs your shoulders down. The delicate glass-like heels refuse to budge from your feet, though no one will ever dance with you--a grin and a laugh is all you got, when you dared to ask--but they still feel sore from your wandering, your half-hearted spinning and attempts to lose yourself in the dream, all the same.  

Everything, everything is sore. Your body and your head and your heart. The room feels fuzzy, not unlike the skin of a peach. Fuzzy and unreal and disorienting. And you’re so, so lonely. 

The people here are dreamlike and blurry, talking amongst each other in giggling whispers, which is the most you’ve gotten out of them. Laughter. Do they mock you? Or are they trapped in some fugue-like state, unable to do anything but drink and dance and laugh?

Perhaps you’re not the only one here who has bitten peaches.

The clock in the corner strikes, but when you glance at it, its hands are winding aimlessly. There Is no hour and you’ve been here forever, it seems, and you might be here forever still.

All you can do is wander, your glass heels clicking against the ballroom floor, dodging the dancers who swirl or gather to sip champagne that flows freely. Wander and think, because getting lost in the haze makes you terrified that you might become one of them, unable to do anything but laugh and dance and your feet will be even more sore.

Which is more sore, you wonder--your body or your heart?

It doesn’t hurt much, anymore, to try to think about your friends and family only to realize that their faces and voices and actions are foggy and lost. They are loose memories that you can never grasp tightly onto.

But the loneliness is something you can grasp, and often do, feeling it keenly and sharp in your stomach. You feel his absence keenly, too, in the wake of no better company--here or there or anywhere. When you’re in the castle or in this ballroom or trapped in another fantasy.

When you’re in the castle (you admit, you miss its stone walls and the open windows of his throne room and even your room, oppressive though it was) you are often left to your own devices while Jareth does what he does. The goblins are stupid, and only want to roughhouse with each other.  You aren’t allowed outside of the castle, so any entertainment or companionship you might obtain with others--assuming they didn’t hate you, assuming Jareth hadn’t killed them or tossed them into some oubliette to rot forever after assisting you into the center--is impossible.

And so Jareth is the only one you can have a conversation with; the only one who isn’t half-there.

Not that you openly pine for his companionship, either.

What started out as a nervous acceptance of his offer, a buzzing in your head and body that reminded you of your first sips of champagne, had dulled down too swiftly. You were his queen, yes. He was your slave, perhaps. But to a point--to a point.

You remember the first time he led you to your chambers, a near replica of your bedroom at home, albeit with a few twists: such as a closet stuffed with the most sumptuous clothing you’d ever imagined, some of them literal recreations of gowns you’d drawn in your notebooks or pinned to your wall.

It was beautiful and too much and all for you. And then he’d kissed you goodnight so gallantly and you’d sat nervously on the end of your bed. But when you tried to leave, the door wouldn’t budge. It was stuck, fast. You knocked. No one answered. You walked backwards to your bed and crawled under the covers and thought, maybe, this was a dream, and when I wake up I will be at home.

You woke up in your room, with the sequins of ballgowns winking at you from the closet.

When the door swung open and he stood there, dressed more modestly than you’d seen him before, you inquired about the door; ever so quietly, politely, unsure, nervous and realizing with the clarity of sleep that he was a goblin king and you were just some nobody who had agreed to give up the world and family and friends and your sister, safe at home he said, but did he tell you the truth? And he threw his head back and laughed ignored your question. 

He told you to pick a gown for breakfast. A gown at breakfast seemed an impossible choice and perhaps he read your mind because he took one out for you, a pale green gown with sparkling puffy sleeves, and you hoped you wouldn’t get food on them. Did it matter if you did? The realization of who you were and where you were seemed to hit you again and again. 

But as you dressed and as he adorned your neck with an emerald necklace, you were feeling better, a little less nervous, a little more excited. Your dreams--here they were, laid out in front of you like a feast. You were in a castle, you had anything you wanted apparently at your fingertips. And a king to hand it to you, his touch both gentle and firm as he took your arm like a gentlemen and led you into the hall.

As your own door shut behind you, you caught sight of it: a heavy, gilded padlock on the outside of your door, the padlock that had kept you from budging it the night before. Your stomach dropped.

“Why is that there?” You’d asked, looking up at him. He smiled, and it was not exactly a nice smile, you realized. 

“To keep my queen inside her chambers. What else are locks in castles for?”

Your cheeks felt heated, and you’d blurted out--oh the memory of it makes you feel stupid, now--”If I’m your queen, you can’t just lock me up in my room.”

He stopped. His arm around you tensed and it made your heart speed up.

“Can’t I?” It was all he said, practically murmuring as he looked down at you. Then he’d continued, and you stumbled for a moment before following him in silence.

You had no words to answer him.

Fear him, love him, obey him; the words on loop echoed in your head as he led you to a dining chamber, bustling with goblins who tripped over themselves carrying trays and goblets to and fro. You barely remember sitting at the ornate, carved chairs in front of a haphazard meal--how well could goblins cook?--or the way Jareth insisted on giving you cup after cup of wine. 

You barely remember the way the day seemed to jump by, and after dinner your head felt heavy and then there was a bed underneath you, his bed, large and sumptuous. The smell of peaches was in the air and your dinner gown, pink and velvet and scented like roses, bunched up underneath you as he was above you.

The days after that were often blurry. You asked to take it back, you asked to go home. He refused and locked you in your room. You asked to just be let outside the castle, at least, and inquired about the friends you’d made in the labyrinth. He refused and locked you in your room. He fed you peaches. He sat by your bed, petting your hair as your head swum in dreams, waiting to pull you out whenever he deemed it suitable.

Ah.

You’re lost again, lost in memories, when you’re suddenly in someone's grip and spinning,  your back instinctively leaning as you twirl.

“Did you miss me?”

It’s Jareth, of course. No one else would touch you. He’s wearing a suit made of embroidered purple velvet, and when you glance up you see that he’s chosen makeup to match. And glitter, of course, always glitter. You swear you can see it flying off him as you dance, as he sparkles as much as anything else in the room.

His grip on you is familiar and firm, and when he spins you around the weight of this dream-like room seems to lessen. Your shoulders feel lighter and the glass around your feet doesn’t feel like it might break and shatter into a million pieces.

Your mind aches to talk to him. To have a conversation with a person, not a laughing caricature. To hear him ask about your favorite books, ones you didn’t own, so he could procure them. To listen to him tell you about those who didn’t make it through the labyrinth--though you hated these stories, grim as they were, and he stopped telling them. To cross your arms nervously and murmur out your fantasies at his behest, things you’d always wanted to see or do; unicorns and fairies (though you’d seen them before the castle, and they bit you) and jousts (not quite as gallant, with goblins as the knights) and anything else your heart desired.

You might tell him this. You might tell him that you did miss him, because without him you’re a heavy, aimless dancer stuck in this room that you hate with people that don’t view you as human and are they people at all? You might tell him that you do appreciate what he’s done for you, the gifts and gowns and dreams, but that you wish he wasn’t so commanding towards you, wasn’t so demanding of you. You might tell him that his passion confused you and his kisses were too intense and you don’t understand why he wants you, why anyone wants you.

You might tell him, yes, I missed you, please take me out of here and take me with you.

You might tell him this.

Stubbornness wins out.

“No,” you say, ignoring the ache in your feet. “I was just bored.”

He chuckles, but he’s not amused.

“And here I thought you wanted to join me in the castle.” He releases you from his grip with a final flourish, and the endless dancers around you begin to push in, separating you two in their increasing mania.

“Well, if you didn’t miss me, I’ll let you get back to your ball.”

The music swells with his words, as he backs way, disappearing among the nameless throng of guests.

It might be weeks before he shows up again, and instantly, stubbornness loses.

“Wait!” You push against the moving wall of people, their tulles and sequins scratching your arm, their heels stepping on your toes. Someone laughs, a barking, harsh laugh.

Through sheer force of will, you reach him, grabbing the end of a velvet sleeve and gripping it tightly with your fingers.

“Please,” you beg. “Don’t leave me.”

You see the glimmer in his eyes, a ghost of a smile. You bite your lip. Words are important here. Words are contracts and wishes and pitfalls all in one. “No, wait. I mean. Take me with you.”

He dips low then, taking your hand and pressing it with a gentle kiss. Someone in the crowd lets out a saccharine sigh.

“Whatever you desire.”

When his lips meet your skin, the ballroom collapses and inverts and you wake up in your bed with a slamming force that has you sitting so quickly that your head swims. You reach out and grasp the headboard and wait for the world to stop falling, wait for the pain of gowns and glass slippers to stop sweeping through your bones.

When you stand, slowly and gently, a discarded peach rolls onto the floor.

Your stomach curls when you remember biting into it. What can you do, when you’re locked up in your room with nothing to eat but what shows up on a golden tray in the morning? You’re stubborn and disobey him, and he locks you up in a room. In your room, you can only eat what he sends you. And he sends a peach, so you must eat.

And his peach sends you to the worlds of your dreams, worlds of ballgowns and princesses, glitter and lace, soft music and oh-so-much-prettiness. You scoff at the you that you used to be. The you that accepted the invitation into the labyrinth and in the end, capsized under the temptation of fantasy being reality. Of being his queen.

Though it’s hard to feel like any queen, even the queen of goblins and labyrinths and bogs of eternal stench, locked in your room, still dizzy from a peach.

When the door opens, he’s wearing something new. A costume change, because as long as you’ve known him (how long? He refuses to say, and time of course, no longer has meaning) he can never resist wearing something new.

It’s a gold suit this time, glimmering and shining. The gold glitter above his eyes seems to dance as his hands open and a large golden gown drops onto your bed. You look down at it and your heart aches. How you would have loved such a gown, before. How you do still love it, and you can’t hide the way your fingers slide over the fabric, earning a pleased chuckle from Jareth.

“What’s the occasion?” You murmur, fingering the delicate golden lace at the fringe of the sleeves.

He lifts you up and tugs at your night gown, and you obediently raise your hands this time as he undresses you. Layers and layers first, then the shimmering gown. He pulls matching shoes out of nowhere and you slip them on, sighing a bit when they’re comfortable and soft and not made out of glass.

“I’ve ordered our subjects to put on a performance.” He smiles, and if it’s not a nice smile, you push the bitterness down. “To celebrate the return of their queen.”

You allow him to take you by the arm, and you keep your eyes straight ahead this time. The door shuts behind you and you refuse to look back at the padlock.

“I trust you will behave,” he tells you, not stopping in your progress down the hall.

You nod and grip his arm tighter. At least he’s real. At least he speaks to you. At least you’re in the castle.

Tonight, you hope, his bed chamber won’t smell like peaches.

[chuckbass-love]

Fic where Chris accidentally gets a girl pregnant( could be a random girl he’s sleeping with or maybe a friend, up to you) he’s super freaked out and tells his mom and family for advice on what to do. But they reprimand him first

Hi lovely anon...

So i received two requests about pregnancy with Chris. One of which is this one and the second is Chris as a teen getting a girl pregnant so i’ll do both as separate fics. This one as adult Chris and the other as it was requested. 

I’m sorry to the anon who requested this since i’ve taken a long time to write it. But i hope the wait has been worth it after you read.

Disclaimer: My work is not to be posted anywhere else other than my Tumblr, Wattpad and Ao3 without my permission. However, reblogs are welcome.

Pairing: Chris Evans x Fem!Reader

Warning: Smut! Sex, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), pregnancy reveal, swearing and fluff.18+

Word Count: 5,061

GIF NOT MINE!!! Credit to @jckcriley go check them out❤️

Unexpected

“W-what?” you can’t help but almost choke on your beer as the unexpected words leave your friend of 6 years mouth.

“You heard me” he smirks, sipping on his own beer and leaning back on the couch. His eyes remain locked on yours.

“Chris, maybe you’ve had a bit too much to drink” you giggle, reaching over to take his drink but he pulls it out of the way so you can’t “I’m practically sober, Y/N. You mean to tell me you’ve never thought of me that way?” he raises a brow at you, the one look that always has you secretly wanting to jump his bones.

Sure he’s your friend and has been for 6 years but that doesn’t mean you’ve never had sexual thoughts and fantasies about him. Thoughts and fantasies that have been intruding your rational side for as long as you can remember. But you got used to the friend zone and you have no one else to blame but yourself for remaining there. 

Whenever Chris has been single, you’ve been tempted to swoop in and admit your feelings but quickly aborted that mission, refusing to put yourself in a position to be rejected. 

And now, he’s sat in front of you at your house admitting that he’s always had a crush on you. You’re shocked and it shows. 

Your silence to his question and your failure to keep eye contact gives you away. Why does he have to make you so nervous?

“You have, haven’t you?” he closes the gap between the two of you, taking your beer from you and placing both his and yours on the coffee table before turning your head so that his lustful eyes meet your shy ones.

He doesn’t miss the way your breathing hitches at the feel of his lips grazing across yours without kissing you and he certainly doesn’t miss the way you shiver at the feel of his thick digits dancing down your right arm slowly.

“Chris” you whine, in hopes that he’d just give in and kiss you already. After all, it’s been a long time coming. But instead he lowers his head to your shoulder, pressing a chaste kiss to the exposed skin before moving to your ear. His breath fans your earlobe and his beard tickles your skin “what is it baby?” his whispering has you gasping, more so at the intimate nickname than anything else.

“We shouldn’t do this, it’ll ruin our-”

“What? Our friendship? Well i’m down for that if you are” he licks your earlobe, biting it a little too.

Again, your breath hitches and your heart skips more than just a beat as his lips are now inches from your own and the beer fills yours nose.

Before you even have a chance to stop it, his soft lips meet yours. Moving in sync, almost as if they were made to kiss.  His beard yet again tickles your skin, no doubt it’s gonna leave a burn all over after he’s finished with you.

It takes a couple of seconds for you to realise what’s going on but when you do, you let go and it’s incredible. Your arms wrap around his neck loosely and he pulls you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him.

A quick break for a breath of fresh air is taken before going back to it, the two of you going at it more like life long lovers than old friends. You can’t help but wonder if you’re the only friend of his he’s had these kinds of feelings towards. Or if you’re the only one full stop.

“Wait” you push him away slowly, looking right into his eyes “am i the only one?” your question has his brows furrowing in confusion.

“What?” his chuckle leads you to smile “am i the only friend you find attractive? The only friend you’ve thought about in this way?”

“Yes”

And you believe him.

“I never thought i could pursue anything because of the way we are together. The nicknames, the way you act like one of the guys. I just didn’t think it was ever a possibility”

He’s saying all of the right things and right here, right now. You don’t wanna second guess him, so you pull him back to you, kissing him like your life depends on it.

And he just reciprocates the same energy but with a twist. His hands find their way to your ass cheeks underneath your tennis skirt. He gives your soft globes a little squeeze, earning an excited squeal from you which only turns him on more. 

“God this skirt. It drives me crazy every time you wear it” he groans as his kisses turn to open mouthed ones along your jawline and down your neck to your sweet spot.

You gotta admit, you could say the same thing to him about his body. Whenever his shirts are open a little to reveal his chest and his tattoos or whenever his biceps bulge out of the shirt sleeves. You feel your legs turn to jelly and it’s hard to play it cool.

“I need you” you blurt out, causing him to take action. He spins you around quicker than you can even keep up with. Your legs are spread apart and now the only thing stopping him from ruining your tight cunt is the thin piece of cotton covering it. Not for long though.

“Oh yeah, how do you need me baby?” his hands graze your inner thighs and more arousal soaks your panties “I need you to touch me” you beg and your head falls back, resting on his shoulder. You look up at him before closing your eyes as you feel the pads of his fingers press down on your bundle of nerves.

“What, like this?” his mouth begins to suck on your neck, no doubt leaving marks for everyone to see tomorrow. 

All you can muster is a lazily mumbled “mhmm yes” and that’s all he needs to reach his hands inside. The way his fingers run through your folds before circling your dripping hole is like a feeling you’ve never experienced. Probably because the one and only time you’ve ever been intimate with someone was the quick rubbing of your clit and missionary. Hardly adventurous.

Chris however, has experience. And there’s obviously a reason Minka and Jenny went back for more, right?

Or at least you assume so. Plus many drunken conversations with Jenny gave away some details that at the time had you jealous as fuck. But now, you’re aching with the anticipation of what’s to come tonight.

For example. One party that Chris hosted. You and Jenny were bonding over tequila. 

Tara left the group just as she got into it and you can’t say you blamed her at the time. Tara and Chris are best friends and it would be weird for her to take an interest in his sex life shenanigans.

But since you and Chris have only ever been friends, not best friends, you stuck around. If you hadn’t then god knows who Jenny would have told.

She was practically drooling over the sight of him across the room, starting the conversation with a simple “how sexy is he?” almost like she expected you to agree, which you didn’t. Despite agreeing in your head of course.

“Oh you should have seen him last night Y/N, that mouth of his. Jesus. He was like an animal. I’ve never cum so many times from oral”

The memory in itself has you moaning and bucking your hips up into his hand, yearning for more.

His hand pulls from your panties and his fingers hook into the sides of them. He lifts your legs with one hand as his other slides them down and off, discarding them halfway across the room. Not that you care where they land.

The way his arms wrap around both of your thighs, parting your legs whilst they reach down to rub firm circles on your aching and needy pussy, is almost like he’s wanted this as long as you have. Which of course is most likely true since he’s already admitted to crushing on you secretly.

“Please, Chris, i need it” your impatient self can’t control the hunger, but he has other plans.

“All in good time, let me take care of you Y/N”

His thick digits circle your hole once again before two of them slip inside without even a single warning. You’re not used to the feeling but after a couple of pumps in and out, he starts curling them against that familiar spongy spot which makes you forget the stretch you experienced just seconds ago. 

Now everything that Jenny said makes sense.

“Fuck, yes. Don’t stop” your hand grips his wrist as you start to grind your hips in circles, wanting to feel the palm of his hand against you throbbing clit. And with your impending first orgasm of many to come, you can’t help but arch your back.

“Gonna cum already, huh? Come on baby, cum for me” he eggs, a third finger adding to the equation. Just what you needed to fall off the cliff in his arms. Your legs shake and your breathing quickens “just like that baby, cum all over these fingers” and you do. 

Your arousal drips down his fingers, making the mess he urged you to. 

Once he rides you through your high, he pulls out, lifting them to his mouth and the second they come into contact with each other, he’s slurping and sucking them clean.

The sight itself is probably enough to make you cum all over again but before you can, he’s manoeuvring you so that he’s carrying you into your bedroom and laying you down.

More clothes are tossed onto the floor until the two of you are in nothing but your birthday suits and you gotta say, his size is more than impressive.

“Such a beautiful body, might have to keep you like this all the time” he smirks, hovering above you, his huge biceps either side of your head. He lowers his head down so he can capture your lips in a quick but passionate kiss and you can tell this isn’t just a quick hook up to him. Or at least, that’s the way it seems.

You hope.

His lips linger for a couple of seconds before they lower to the valley between your breasts and he inhales your scent instantly, breathing you in like the smoke from a cigarette.

“Smell so good baby. Always smell so good” his fingers tweak at your nipples as the kisses continue, moving lower and lower until he’s face to face with your cunt.

It’s only natural for you to expect some kind of teasing from him but he takes you by surprise by devouring you like a 3 course meal with no feather like touches or dirty talk to get you to beg for his filthy mouth.

“And you taste good too, always knew you would”

The words have you covering your face and the feel of his head shaking on you has you closing your legs on it. The scratching of his beard on your thighs is both awful and incredible all at once. You just simply can’t get enough, running your fingers through his messed up locks and grinding your pussy on his tongue as he sticks it out for you to use as much as you like.

“Gonna make this sweet pussy cum once more before i fuck it, that okay, baby?”

No words are needed, he knows you want it. So he dives back in, spreading your pussy folds and blowing air on your clit before his lips wrap around it for him to suck.

"Cum on my tongue baby, i know you can, give it to me, let me get another taste” he coos and you find your body shaking. 

Seconds later, after his words of encouragement and his tongue fucking you. You release for the second time tonight, all over his skilful tongue. You prop yourself up onto your elbows to watch as he makes sure no drop is wasted before he kisses his way back up to you.

As soon as his tongue slips into your mouth, battling with yours, you can taste your sweet arousal and it drives you crazy.

You wrap your legs around his waist and he buries his face in the crook of your neck as he lines himself up “you sure you wanna do this?” he asks, pulling away to look at you, unsure on whether you truly want this but why wouldn’t you want this?

“Chris, i’m sure” you convince, cupping his face with both hands and all of a sudden your pussy is stretching to accommodate his size as he slides home with no pauses to get you used to it. You knew the moment that you saw his cock that it would hurt a little. But the pain soon subsides and is replaced with pleasure.

His thrusting pace picks up immediately and your legs tighten around him as your urge to have him deeper consumes you

“Shit” he grunts, hissing at the feel of your warm walls fluttering around him perfectly, he can’t say this is anything like his many fantasies because the honest truth is it isn’t. It’s better, way better.

Having you underneath him, panting and moaning like he’s always dreamed makes him think heaven is right here with you. A place on earth.

“Taking this cock so well baby, feel good huh?” his voice raspy and gentle at the same time even though the way he’s ploughing into you is far from it. 

“Yes. God yes. Chris i’m gonna cum” you mewl frantically, feeling your walls clamp down on him hard as if he’ll leave if you don’t. And if you’re being completely honest with yourself, you don’t want to ever be without him now, you want this for life. You’ve come so far, you’re knee deep in feelings for this man and you hope he’s on the same page.

“Fuck. Cum with me baby, i’m right there with you” his grunting and growling turn to moans that could resemble that of a porn star. So hot and like music to your ears.

The room is filled with the sound of his skin slapping against yours and the sounds of pleasure from the two of you merging into one with little sweat droplets adorning both your foreheads.

“Oh fuck, squeeze me again baby”

“Just” thrust “like” thrust “that” 

“Chris, don’t stop” you plead as your toes begin to curl, his head drops so his lips can meet yours the second he spots signs of the coil snapping within you.

And when it does, he’s sucking all of the air from your lungs and muffling your moans.

The way your walls spasm around him spurs his own release on, he twitches a couple times before finally releasing inside of you and painting your walls.

Shockwaves rush through you and you still can’t believe you just had sex with your friend. 

Maybe it’ll hit you in the morning and you fear the unknown reaction from the man himself. What if he regrets it? What if you do? Whatever happens, you can’t change the results, all you can do is bask in the glory of this moment finally coming to life after a million times where you’ve over thought how this would go down.

He eventually pulls out, falling down to the spot on the bed beside of you, panting too.

“Well that’s certainly not what i expected to happen tonight” you giggle.

Chris has to say, he feels relieved. All those sneaky glances your way and all those nights out where he was dying to kiss you have finally stopped. Because now he doesn’t have to hide it away, you know and you feel the same. 

Having you in his arms now as he pulls you to rest your head on his chest after mind blowing and romantic sex. All of your desires have come true.

“Me neither. What does this mean for us now though?” the question you were saving for tomorrow but you’re thanking the lord that he’s asked first.

“I was going to ask the same thing. But i don’t know, i guess if you want to then we could maybe go on a date, see where things go?” he lifts your head up with his finger under your chin and the second your eyes meet, he kisses you hard.

“I’d love to take you out”

“So, that’s a yes?” 

He can’t help but laugh nervously “it’s the easiest yes i’ve ever had to give, i can’t wait. But maybe now we should sleep?" before he even finishes talking you’re yawning and closing your eyes. 

And with a quick peck on your forehead, you both get under the covers and drift off.

---------------------

*4 weeks later*

A month after your hookup with Chris and you’ve already had your first date.

He invited you to his place where he had a 3 course meal waiting, that he cooked himself.

Quite impressive and it was actually edible which made you suspect that he had Lisa’s help.

Though he would never admit that to you because he wanted to impress and of course he did.

You’ve not seen him all week, only spoke to him over text or FaceTime since he’s been super busy with work. Meetings galore for upcoming projects. You respect that with his career though, this dating business is going to be a lot like your friendship has been. There’s nothing you can do about it but to tell the truth, you’re kinda glad he’s not been around.

It all started last week when you were puking constantly, your boobs were unbelievably sore and the nausea has been out of this world. 

The puking has been mostly in the mornings but this morning was the worst. All of these things had you racking your brain, there had to be a reason behind it and when you calculated the days for your period, you realised you were a week late.

So you drove down to the store, picking up some water and snacks as well as a pregnancy test.

The second you returned home, you rushed to the bathroom to take it and let’s just say waiting for the results to show were the longest few minutes of your life. Your legs were shaking as were your hands. When the timer stopped, you took a deep breath before glancing down to meet your fate.

It reads ‘pregnant’ on the clear blue stick.

How the fuck is Chris gonna take this?

The thought alone makes you want to puke so you quickly drop to your knees, spewing your lunch into the toilet.

This is your life well and truly ruined,

-------------------

Chris knocks on your door, waiting patiently for you to answer and let him in. As soon as he sees your exhausted face, his smile fades.

“What’s wrong?” worry fills his voice and it hurts even more.

Yeah sure, he’s 39 and you’re 30. But does he really want a kid this soon with you. You know he wants to be a dad and he has done for a long time. But even so, it’s way too soon. It’ll be like taking 5 giant leaps when you’ve only just admitted to liking one another a couple weeks back.

“Come sit down” your voice monotone and serious, scaring him further.

“Baby?” he asks but you ignore, taking more deep breaths.

“Look, i don’t really know how to go about this and i’m terrified” you gulp, looking away from him and fidgeting in your seat “so for the last week or so i’ve been experiencing some things. Sickness, nausea and my boobs have been hurting and feeling very sore. You know all that already. But this morning was the worst. I puked so much that i almost fainted when i went to stand” 

You can practically see his hands shaking too, still refusing to look him in the eye which is driving him insane.

“Y/N please, what is it?” his patience wearing thin.

Here goes nothing.

“I’m pregnant” 

Now you look at him, his eyes wide, his mouth open slightly.

“What?”

Not a question that needs an answer as you’re pretty sure he’s just shocked.

“I-I don’t know w-what to say”

“I don’t expect you to say anything, Chris. I won’t blame you if you want to walk away now”

Hearing you say that riles him, he forces you to look at him “listen here, i’m not gonna walk away. No chance. Two of us made this baby and two of us are gonna take care of it”

Even with the confidence he’s showing, you know him well enough to see the act. He’s terrified too. But it’s probably best to not bring it up now. 

Tears fall down your face as he pulls you into a hug, wrapping his arms around you. He can sense that you were worried about being deserted.

But that’s never going to happen. 

“We’ll get through this together okay?”

“Okay”

--------------------------

Days pass and Chris is getting even more scared. The news still hasn’t full sunk in yet. You’re carrying his child and yet he feels like he’s too immature to do this and in this head space, there’s only so many people that he can turn to.

He thought it would be best to share the news with his family alone first since he’s never been in this position before. He’s watched his sister go through it and obviously his mother went through it 4 times with him and his siblings.

This is something he’s wanted for a long time. He doesn’t want to mess it up. So it’s time to get help.

“Ma, it’s me” he calls out, closing the front door and searching the lounge before he hears her call back “kitchen”

As soon as he enters, he finds his sister Carly helping his mom with lunch.

“How’re you” Carly asks, hugging him but his heavy breathing alerts her.

“Chris?”

“I need advice, i’m freaking out” and now his flustered state is abundantly clear.

“Why what’s happened?”

The pair stop in their tracks, focusing all of their attention onto him and gesturing for him to speak.

“So you know me and Y/N decided to give dating a go” they nod “about time too” Lisa jokes.

“Well, turns out. She’s pregnant” he grits his teeth, watching as they freak out too. With Lisa’s mouth hanging open and Carly’s eyes widening.

“Say something please”

“Chris, how could you let this happen so soon?” 

Not the response he was hoping for. 

“I-i”

“Did you even use protection?” Lisa’s eyebrows raise before she bows her head once he shakes his.

“Christopher, you’ve only just started dating this girl and she’s already pregnant. I don’t believe this”

“Chris this isn’t easy you know, pregnancy, parenting. It’s hard and are you sure you two are ready to take such a big step so soon?” Carly adds, calming her voice more than what their mom did.

He doesn’t even have an answer for them.

Because he’s most likely not ready, neither are you but is anyone ever ready to be a parent? Probably not. 

“It’s sleepless nights, long days of tantrums and melt downs. Loud screaming, refusing to eat and a horrendous amount of dirty and smelly nappies. Can you handle all of that? Can she?”

“Look I’m terrified enough as it is and I know it’s not gonna be easy. That’s why I came here in hopes that you would ease my mind about this” he sighs, sitting down at the breakfast bar and scratching the back of his head with Carly taking a seat on the stool beside him.

“How does Y/N feel about it?”

“Scared too, assumed i was just going to leave but i reassured her it would be okay and that i’d never leave”

A proud mother moment for Lisa, she knows in this moment that she’s done a good job with raising him and all of her kids. 

Her life is a constant never ending string of proud mother moments with them. They never cease to amaze her.

“As long as you have us, you’ll be okay but please let this be a lesson to you. Not using protection is so dangerous. Especially when it’s just casual at first, you need to be careful”

They are right. It was reckless too. Drunken nights in with friends that he fancies aren’t the best time for sex. 

Even he can admit that.

“Condoms always” Lisa’s index finger in his face has him laughing and nodding frantically “yes ma’am” they all laugh at his remark and eventually he feels the tense atmosphere leave.

He feels like the news has been accepted.

“God your father might actually pass out when he hears this”

“Can we tell him and everyone else over dinner, tonight maybe. I want Y/N to be here when they find out. I only told you guys because i didn’t know who else to turn to”

“You’re gonna make an amazing father Chris. You just need to believe that and you’ll be set. Am i saying parenting is easy? Certainly not but what i am saying is that i have more than enough faith in you to do this right. You got this, just please do me a huge favour and wrap it up from now on or you’ll end up like me before you know it”

He hugs his sister tight, squeezing her and letting out the biggest deep breath ever “love you. What would i do without you?”

“I honestly don’t know”

Chris says goodbye to them before heading over to your place and Lisa texts the family group chat, asking if everyone is free to join for dinner.

Once you become aware of the plan, you freak out and hours later you’re still deciding what to even dress yourself in. 

“But what am i even going to wear?”

“What if they don’t take it well?"

Chris has to eventually hold you in place to keep you still “you’re starting to resemble that one scene in the grinch baby. Just remain calm. You’ve been around my family loads of times and besides mom and Carly already know. They support us”

He’s right. He’s always right. This is why you two alway got on so effortlessly as friends. He balances your crazy and anxious self out with his calm, cool and collected self.

Plus you both have a shared love for beer, football and cussing non stop. 

“Shit, you’re right” you breathe in and out a couple times before settling on some high waisted jeans and a pink jumper. You match it with some Dr Martens before leaving to go and have that dreaded dinner.

You’ve been around his family before, you keep telling yourself this in hopes that it will calm your nerves. The car journey is short and sweet and now you find yourself walking into his parent’s house.

All eyes in view fixate on you two. Everyone knows you both have become a thing but wait until they know you’re knocked up because neither Chris nor you had the brain cells to suggest using a condom.

“Right everyone, dinner is ready” Lisa shouts and there’s a rush to the dining room with you trailing behind. Chris pulls out a chair for you to sit in before taking his own in a spot next to you.

Grace is said and small talk is made as the entire family dig in. You can see Chris getting ready to speak up and your stomach does loads of little backflips due to all the nerves.

“Everyone, me and Y/N have something we’d like to tell you”

Complete silence in the room and now you want the ground to swallow you up.

“So as you all know, we’re a couple now”

“About fucking time” Scott roars, earning laughs all around.

“Well, we’ve got some news and whilst it’s completely unexpected but we’re very excited to tell you that we’re having a baby” you stand up with him as you take in the reactions.

Some are shocked, some are cheering and smiling and others are just eating. AKA the kids.

Congratulations are tossed your way and Shanna is instantly giving you baby name suggestions whilst Scott is hugging Chris and offering to baby sit already.

“I’m so happy for you and if you ever need a sitter, uncle Scotty is where it’s at” you’ll 100% bare that in mind.

As you take your seats again to tuck into more delicious food courtesy of Lisa, Chris leans in “see, nothing to worry about. You’re family already” and with a kiss to your forehead, he continues with his roasting of Scott.

You couldn’t wish for a better family to be apart of or a better family for your child.

---------------------------

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[jooniyah]

Silver Blades

Pairing: Jeon Jungkook x Fem Reader ; Yandere Royalty!au 

Genre: Angst, Mature

Warnings: Hard Yandere behavior, emotional abuse, dubcon bordering on non-con, violence, degradation and physical abuse, manipulation, profanity, smattering of smut, blood, swords and murder.

Disclaimer:  This is a work of fiction and I do not condone any of the actions of the characters in this fiction. This is to be treated as pure fantasy, and should not be misconstrued to be demeaning the idols in any way. If any of the above warnings cause you discomfort, kindly refrain from reading.

This is an incredibly mean yandere, please proceed only if you are not triggered by the warnings. I repeat, please be sure to read all the warnings carefully. Author’s note:  I have coined a couple of words to better suit my fiction, please be assured that they are not typographical errors. I am sorry in advance for the ending, and for breaking your heart! Okay, read and get your hearts broken! 

Picture credit: YimeiZhu

“Don’t you dare sulk,” your aunt grumbled, adjusting your corset. 

“It is the King’s orders and the law of the land. Keep your face pleasant.”

You couldn’t see properly, all those tears blurring your vision. You searched your aunt’s face for any trace of compassion, but there was nothing kind in the eyes that stared back at you. 

“You know I have my own children to take care of,” she continued, pulling at the lace, crushing your chest tighter. 

You squeezed your eyes shut in pain as the laces bit into your skin. Why were you the Cimarin when there were plenty of other girls in the kingdom? How was it that life always seemed to hand you the worst of luck? 

“Wipe that look from your face,” your aunt chided, bustling around to fetch your Tochir, or gifts, meant to be taken with you to the Prince.

 The ladies from the village had all gathered in your aunt’s house, bringing sprigs of honeysuckle, carnation, and heather as part of your Tochir. As was customary, they draped your corseted body in yards and yards of silk, sprinkling each layer with a perfume that was made of distilled azaleas. 

The smell overpowered you, making you feel giddy and suffocated. Your hair was elaborately braided, complete with tiny flowers set in the twists of your braids.  

  You looked at yourself in the rusted mirror. You were the prettiest you had ever been. Why then was your heart threatening to burst anytime out of your corseted chest? How convenient for your aunt that the King had chosen you. An orphan. Raised unwillingly under the roof of your mother’s sister. 

Your aunt had a way of reminding you often that you were nothing more than a burden to her. How relieved she’d be right now, that her daughters had been spared. It was you that the King had asked for. You, the Cimarin of the Prince. You laughed bitterly at your reflection. 

“Born under the unluckiest of stars,” you spat at yourself miserably.   

The ladies had fashioned the flower sprigs into a small bouquet for you to carry. It was time to leave. Your aunt was telling you how to behave with the Prince, but your numb mind couldn’t process a word. She pressed a jade medallion, also a part of your Tochir, into your palm, the stone feeling as cold as your frightened heart. 

“…. fortunate that I wasn’t asked to provide any dowry,” your aunt was rambling on, her face lighting up, not believing her luck at getting rid of an unwanted encumbrance that had threatened to encroach her daughters’ dowry money. 

Your parents hadn’t foreseen dying at thirty-odd years of their lives and had left you penniless when you became an orphan at the tender age of seven. The Royal carriage arrived, drawn by two luxuriously black steeds. 

The footman opened the dainty doors, waiting for you to board. Clutching your Tochir, you looked back one last time, heart sinking when you realized that every other woman apart from your aunt had a sympathetic look on her face. With a strangled sob, you turned and climbed into the carriage.   

*****

The long ride to the Palace allowed you to bemoan your destiny, tears flowing ceaselessly with each sob that raked your body. The sweat in your palms seeped through your gloves and dampened the stems in the bouquet you held onto for dear life. The smell of heather and azaleas adulterated by the odor of sweat emanating from your gloves seemed to curl around you like wisps of smoke. 

Whatever did you do to deserve this? Would your parents have defied the King’s orders had they been alive? 

“Why didn’t you take me with you, mama?” were the only words echoing desperately in your head. 

You could see the towers of the castle looming in the distance. The Donjon grew bigger in your field of vision as the horses sped with thudding hooves towards the castle. A fresh wave of fear stirred in the pit of your stomach as you sensed the carriage slowing to a halt. 

You were frozen in your seat when the liveried footman opened the door and held an arm out to you. A small group of Royal maids had gathered around the carriage. A matronly woman reached in and pulled your arm harshly, with an air of annoyance, as if she were bored with welcoming distraught Cimarins all her life.

When you alighted awkwardly, with the woman’s hand still gripping you tightly, the rest of the maids sprinkled rose water on you, another rite. But the air, to you, was nothing but a smothering fire, finally consuming your wings, burning them to ashes forever.   

***** The great halls you were led along were adorned with tasteful decorations, every ornate item polished to perfection, every piece of delicate china gleaming vibrantly. There was not a speck of dust on the glass panes, not a spot on the crisp curtains. So different from the grime-covered attic you were used to sleeping in.

The orderliness scared you, the enormity of the fact that you were going to live in the Palace hitting you hard. Your throat went dry when you were finally led to a chamber, furnished minimally with only a cupboard and a divan.

“You won’t be using this room much,” said the maid who had led you to the room. “You will only use this room to retire in case of illness or menstruation.” 

The gravity of her words struck you like cold daggers. Suddenly the room felt like a safe haven you dared not to leave. You hadn’t opened your mouth ever since you arrived, gawking at the intimidating surroundings. The maid looked at you closely, and you thought you sensed a flicker of pity in her eyes. 

“The Prince will be ready for you in an hour.” She stopped and stared at you. “Stop looking so forlorn and wear a smile when you meet the Prince. You are here to be with the Prince, whether you like it or not.” 

And with that, she turned and left.   

***** You had nothing to do except wait to be summoned to the Prince’s chambers. Seated on the divan, you looked down at the silk robes you were wearing. All perfumed up and wrapped elaborately, only to be torn at the hands of the Royal stranger.

 The jade medallion was supposed to be the symbol of good luck you brought to the Prince. Where then was the symbol for the bad luck he brought to you? The cold green stone glinted at you as you kept turning it in your palms.

 Out of nowhere, a maid materialized and said, “The Prince will see you now.” 

You shot up to your feet, blood rushing to your head. Was it time already? Your legs felt like lead as you followed the maid along the long corridors. She stopped before a door and motioned for you to go in. 

“You will wait here.” 

Without any more instructions, she closed the door behind her. This was a large room, furnished with only a magnificent bed, strewn with rose petals. You had been there only a few minutes when a side door opened. 

In walked a young man, dressed in the richest of robes, his eyes never looking once in your direction. He stood and surveyed the bed, his jet-black hair spilling over his eyebrows. His mauve robes contrasted sharply with his fair skin, the light from the windows enhancing the color of his robes and casting a glow on his chiseled face. With a snap of his head, he turned and gazed directly into your eyes. 

You stared back spellbound; how could a mortal man be this handsome?   

He advanced towards you without a word, eyes locked onto yours. His face had a boyish charm that mesmerized you and rendered you speechless. He stopped directly in front of you, one arm catching hold of your robes.

 Losing no time, he pulled the fabric hard, causing you to turn on your heels over and over as he unwound the silk hastily. Irritation clouded his features as the silk kept spilling out without ceasing. 

“How many damned layers are there?” he muttered and dug his fingers into the fabric between your breasts and ripped it. 

He said nothing as he tore at the silk, finally reaching the corset. Like an angry child tearing at the wrappers of a gift, he butchered the lace, reducing it to shreds. Finally, with a dark joy, he yanked off the corset, drinking up the sight of your body, with his arms suspended in the air, holding the mangled corset. 

You instinctively raised your arms to cover your chest, when he gripped you hard.

 “Do not dare do anything you aren’t told to.” 

His coal-black eyes roamed maniacally all over your body, a frightening grin curling up his lips.

“It is my birthday, and you are the Cimarin my father chose to gift me. He did well.” 

His arms curled around your waist as he pulled you snug against his clothed chest. 

“Obey me and you will be rewarded,” he sniffed your hair, sighing at the feeling of having his own Cimarin at last.

He was not a boy anymore, he had turned eighteen, and here was a woman picked exclusively to please him. He closed his eyes as he felt the heat of your body against him. He had grown tired of his own hands, he now had another set of hands to caress him. He had never seen a naked woman so close before, he had grown hard as soon as he had set eyes on your rotund breasts.   

When he opened his eyes, you were still rigid in his arms. He didn’t enjoy the stricken look on your face. 

“Disrobe me,” he ordered, letting go of you.

 With shaking hands, you got to work on removing his clothing. He stood still, looking at you as you peeled the robes off his body, revealing broad shoulders and an incredibly taut chest.

 You had been indoors most of your life, never having seen a topless man. Your virginity had been the first to satisfy the criteria for a Royal Cimarin. Your hands stopped at his underclothes, unsure of what to do next.

 “I don’t recall telling you to stop,” ground out the Prince, impatience contorting his features. 

Closing your eyes, you swiftly undid the buttons and pulled the fabric down, your head remaining bent, not daring to look.

 “Do not keep me waiting,” he thundered, pushing your shoulders down to kneel before him. 

“Please me,” he ordered, closing his eyes, waiting to feel your lips on him. 

A whole minute later, he threw his eyes open, rage evident in his burning orbs, only to see you cowering, with no clue on how you were supposed to please him.    

Thoroughly peeved, he grabbed your head into position, with a curt “Open your mouth.”

 Catching a fistful of your hair, he pushed himself inside your mouth, hissing at the warmth. He threw his head back and groaned, all the while snapping his hips into your face. You tried your best to avoid gagging, holding back the tears threatening to spill out. He became more excited, pinching your nose closed, willing you to take more of him. He forced himself deeper, causing your nose to touch the tufts of hair at his base.

His excitement caused him to climax sooner than he had wished to, and he came in your mouth, causing you to cringe. You hoped he hadn’t noticed, and closed your eyes, waiting for him to remove himself. With a shuddering sigh, he released your mouth and cupped your face tightly, making you wince.

“Never do that again. I’ll let it pass since I’m feeling benevolent today,” he said, eyes boring into you.

 You gulped and nodded. There was something in his eyes that screamed danger and you’d rather not be on the receiving end of it. He was astonishingly strong for an eighteen-year-old. The veins in his arms were prominent, bulging with each movement. He could probably snap your neck in no time if he ever felt like it. 

“What are you looking at?” he asked, and when he received no answer, he clucked his tongue. 

“ Swallow it. Always swallow unless I tell you otherwise.”

 You swallowed immediately, and he smiled his arrogant grin again. God, he was enjoying this so much. He wanted to do everything he had ever imagined, try every possible fancy and have his way with you. This, an obedient woman just to satisfy his whims, felt too good to be true.   

You were naïve enough to think it was over for the day. Just as you thought he would leave you alone to mend your broken dignity, he bent and picked you up in one fluid motion. 

Throwing you on the bed, he leaped over you with the swift agility of a panther stalking its prey. His skin glowed in all its naked glory, muscles flexing as he hovered over you. There was a carnal hunger in his eyes, so palpable that the air felt charged with his want.

Without warning, he sunk his sharp teeth into your breast, making you arch in pain. He didn’t seem to care, as he tried to bite deeper and fit as much of the flesh in his mouth. He closed his eyes, one hand kneading the other breast as he inhaled the soft feminine scent emanating from the swell of your bosom. 

As someone whose calloused hands had held only the hard hilts of bloodied swords for so long, he found it hard to comprehend the pliancy of your supple mounds. Wanting to give the same attention to both breasts, he switched sides, gnawing on the other breast with equal vigor. He was growing hard once more, and when he felt ready again, you had two crescents of bite marks on both sides of your chest.    

Spreading your legs, he inspected your core, snapping his head to look accusingly at you, stating, “You are not wet for me.” 

Though he would never say it out loud, it was a humiliating slap to his ego that his own Cimarin was not wet for him. You didn’t feel privileged that the Prince of the land was providing you his ministrations? Fine. Your arousal didn’t matter to him anyway. You were there for his pleasure, and not the other way around. 

His chest twisted in anger, hating you for being apparently unperturbed by him. With a harsh shove, he entered you, hissing at the warmth of your tight walls. The shocked gasp and look of terror on your face appeased him and spurred him to pound into you harder. 

“I wasn’t … I wasn’t ready…” you whimpered, choking on your sobs.    

Wisps of dark hair fell over his eyes, brushing his eyelashes as he panted out, “Your Highness.” He shrunk his eyes at you, snarling, “You are to address me properly, you ungrateful peasant.” 

The words stung you, bringing tears to your eyes. 

“It hurts, your Highness,” you mumbled slowly.

 “Do I look like I care? You will get used to it,” was his reply. 

Something about your teary eyes aroused him, heightening his pleasure. Serves you right for being thankless, he thought. You lay beneath him, watching him tear into you, his exacting hands gripping your hips agonizingly hard. The lack of lubrication made your insides burn. You could do nothing but grit your teeth and bear it. 

Your fear had tightened your walls and had made you feel even better for him. His sinful groans chilled you to the bones, heating your cheeks and causing your core to throb. He thrust harder and harder, deep growls rumbling in his chest as your core pulsed around him. His forehead and torso glistened with sweat when he finally reached his high, releasing himself inside you with a feral groan. A huge smirk broke out on his face, and he pulled out of you. 

God, you felt a thousand times better than his hands ever did. What a fine day to turn eighteen! He was still blissed out when you scurried to make room for him on the bed. His eyes softened a bit before disgust clouded them.

“You have the audacity to think you can share a bed with the Prince?” he scoffed, rolling off the bed. 

The man really knew how to slice you with his words.

 “Dress me up,” he commanded, standing upright. 

Cheeks burning with shame and embarrassment, you clothed him again. As soon as your fingers finished tying his sash, he abruptly turned on his heel and exited the room without a word, leaving you quivering, naked and humiliated. 

*****   The days at the Palace were all the same. You had two maids whose job was to dress you up in the best silks of the land for the Prince. You were supposed to be ready to present yourself to the Prince at a moment’s notice. 

All-day long, you had nothing to do except wait for him to come back from his princely duties and throw himself at you. He never cared if you liked it or not. He ravaged you whenever he pleased, and deserted you as soon as he got dressed. It was as if you were just a mannequin for him to play with.

 But wasn’t it exactly what a Cimarin’s role was? Every Prince had a Cimarin to practice his husbandly duties with, so he could please his bride better. But everyone knew that the real reason was to curb unwanted displays of the Royal heir’s promiscuity with all the maidens of the Kingdom. 

The King usually chose a virgin damsel and appointed her as the Prince’s Cimarin. The title probably served to mask the bluntness of other words one would use to refer to such a companion. 

You had been granted access to saunter in the Royal gardens, but you had quickly learned that you were looked upon with contempt by the maids. To them, you were nothing but another maid of the Royal household, albeit a titled one. Your title did nothing to hide the fact that you were as disposable as they were. 

There were bitter stares directed at you whenever you ventured out of the Prince’s lair. It was even more difficult when you retired five days a month to your little room. No one cared to ask if you wanted anything to soothe the pain, no one brought you a morsel to eat. 

Once you hadn’t eaten during the entirety of your exile, only to be greeted back by the Prince sarcastically with “Those bones look good on you.”   

***** A whole year rolled by, filled with the Prince’s harsh claiming of your body. His habits of biting and pouncing on you had advanced to whipping and choking. He vented all his anger on you, punishing you for things you hadn’t the least to do with. He simply didn’t care if you were in pain because of him. You were his to destroy.

One day, he returned with a stormy temper, his foot sprained, all thanks to his horse, which had thrown him off the saddle. He shouted for you, his face all stony and seething with anger. 

When you rushed to his side, he thrust his foot in your face, saying “Bandage it.”

You ran out to the Royal doctor in your quest for bandages. 

As he waited impatiently, it occurred to him that he had come straight to you instead of summoning the doctor to his private chambers. What had brought him to you? Were you, the insignificant peasant, growing on him? 

When you returned, he searched your face for anything other than the usual revulsion and fear he had grown accustomed to. He noticed how your fingers trembled, evidently scared to make a mistake and get whipped for it. No, you didn’t even like him, he was sure of that. But why was it that he wanted you to think of him all the time, even if it were out of fear and hatred?

Your face was aligned with his foot, bandaging the sprained ankle as he rested his foot on your bent knee. 

“Kiss my foot,” he said, intently staring at you. 

You were taken aback by the strange command and blinked in confusion. 

“I said, kiss my foot,” he drawled lazily, “Which part of it is unclear to you?” 

Not wanting to get punished, you swallowed your pride and pecked the bridge of his foot. T

he Prince leaned back, satisfied. He decided it would be best to remind himself of your station with orders like these. You were not a Princess, surely you didn’t deserve to be treated like one. 

When you placed his foot down gingerly, he barked out, “Fetch me the cavalry officer.” 

He was always this blunt, leaving you to figure out who or what he wanted, leaving ample room for error, and consequently, painful punishments.    

When you ran out to the stables, you found the groom and asked for the cavalry officer on duty during the Prince’s accident. The groom sent you in search of an officer named Jimin. 

As you skidded to a halt in front of the said officer, you were stunned into silence. In front of you was a man looking like he had descended straight from the Heavens. 

His soft blond hair caught the sunlight and shone, and his grey eyes gleamed like jewels. He was dressed impeccably, the crisp riding uniform tailored to fit his lithe body perfectly, clinging to his toned frame. 

Only when he cleared his throat discreetly did you snap out of your trance. 

“Yes, miss?” he asked, and you marveled at his mellifluous voice. 

“The Prince… He wants you,” you managed to blurt out. 

Your cheeks felt hot, your whole body felt like it was on fire. The gallant officer nodded politely, thanking you for the message. He fell into step alongside you, silently walking towards the lair, as you secretly called it. 

As you walked with him by your side, you couldn’t stop the buzzing in your ears. Did he know you were the Cimarin? Did he look down upon you like the rest of the Royal servants did? Did he always dress this well? 

As you led him to the room, you had the sinking feeling that the officer probably knew what happened inside whenever the Prince frequented this part of his suite. You couldn’t bear to look at him when you presented him to the Prince and curtseyed out of the way. 

You could hear Prince Jeon’s deep sonorous voice shouting at the officer for not taking enough care about the steeds, but you found your ears struggling to filter and catch just the cavalryman’s soft measured replies. 

After the meeting ended, the blond man saluted his Prince and left the room, gliding out to the hall you were standing in. As he crossed you, his eyes flitted to yours, crinkling into beautiful crescents as he flashed you a gorgeous smile. You blushed furiously, unable to stop yourself from smiling back, the exchange feeling so natural and effortless. 

You were still in a happy mood when you went back in, it was so obvious that the Prince raised his eyebrows at you. 

“So happy that I’ve sprained my ankle, are you? Do not fret, I shall put my other body parts to good use while my foot recovers.” 

The rest of the afternoon, as the Prince pounded into you, the only face you could think of was that of the blond young officer.   

*****

One month and sixteen days. It had been that long until you had the chance of seeing the smart cavalry officer again. T

his time too, you were bringing him a message from the Prince. He was probably oblivious to the way his charms were making you mushy, or he might probably think nothing about a creature as lowly as a Cimarin. 

Either way, he never lingered near you a moment too long, taking all your breath with him as he marched away. As you stared at his retreating figure, a part of you fantasized about being an average country girl he would meet at inns, someone with an inkling of dignity he could proudly talk to. 

With a sigh, you turned back to the lair, it was getting late and God knew what punishment the Prince was brewing for you now. When you reached the room, however, Prince Jeon was nowhere to be seen. 

Just as you decided it was a lucky day for you, the Prince’s voice drifted from a nearby room. It was treason to overhear, and you hurried to the windows to shut the voice out when the subject of his talk froze you in place. 

“….. that I want another Cimarin,” he was saying. 

“What happened to the one you have now? Is she not good enough?” a deeper voice much like the Prince’s asked. 

Was it the King? You waited with a beating heart for the Prince to speak again. 

“She is satisfactory, your Majesty. But I still wish to have another one.” 

The King remained silent for a moment. “Do you want me to get rid of the present one then?” 

Your breath caught in your throat. Whatever did ‘get rid of’ mean? 

There was a long pause and the Prince replied, “No, your Majesty. She serves me well enough. I was wondering if I could have another Cimarin, in addition to this one. It is not uncommon to have a couple of Cimarins, I believe?” 

You closed the window, having heard enough. They were discussing you as if you were a slave, a toy they disposed of after playing with. Your head throbbed, and you had to calm yourself down before the Prince caught you red-faced and became suspicious.   

*****

When the Prince returned, he was quite put out. He had wanted to see if he felt the same way he felt about you with any other Cimarin. But the King had not given his word, rather choosing to say he would think about it. 

True, having a harem of Cimarins would defeat the purpose of having just one woman to take care of his needs until he got married. But how else would he find out if the feelings were just boyish lust? 

He was annoyed at you for putting him in this position. Had you made him a weak man who only thought with his crotch? How was it that the more he tried to distance himself from you, the more he found himself going back to you? 

You were seeping through the folds of his brain like poison. But the irony was that he wanted it. He wanted to be poisoned by you. Your eyes, your sweet-smelling hair, the way you bit your lips and scrunched your face when he entered you, it all made him go crazy. 

He lay down on the bed and beckoned to you. The rule was to either kneel on the bed or remain standing but to never lie down with him as an equal. Except, of course, he told you explicitly to do so. 

Today, however, he wanted your mouth on him, erasing away all those annoying thoughts that buzzed in his head. He caught your hair in his hand, guiding your mouth to his hard member. His moans filled the room as you got to work on him.

Catching hold of your head, he thrust his hips off the bed and hit your throat deep, enjoying the way your throat muscles constricted around him. He couldn’t help forcing his hands on the back of your head to take him deeper, causing you to make those gagging noises that made him go wild. 

He looked down at the dark hair that bobbed in his crotch and a thought flickered in his mind. You were so fragile that he could just end your life with a snap of his fingers. What if he choked you to death, stuffed full of him? 

His hands left your hair and circled the pulse points on your neck. He could feel your pulse throbbing against his fingertips. Just one hard press and he could break you, break all the insanity you were putting him through. 

Right at the moment he started to tighten his hold around your neck, there was a knock on the door. He let go of you, waiting for you to stuff his member back into his underclothes, and dress him up again.

*****   

 When you opened the door, there was officer Jimin, along with a person who looked more decorated, he was probably a higher authority of the cavalry. They had rolls of parchment in their hands, which they requested the Prince to sign. You went back in as the Prince made his way to the door to reach for the parchment. 

Embarrassment crept up your spine, you wished you could melt away instead of letting Jimin see you in the lair, hair disheveled and mouth crusted with come.

 But luck had its way, and the bottle of ink into which Prince Jeon dipped his quill slipped and shattered to pieces on the floor, splashing ink all over his feet. 

The irate Prince turned back and bellowed, “Hey, you! Come clean this mess.” 

 You scrambled to wipe the ink, feeling as insignificant as the dust on the floor. The Prince saw an opportunity to humiliate you further and thrust his ink-smeared foot towards you. 

Ears burning, you blotted up the ink as well as you could with the end of your robes. You knew he would have a fit if you used the rag to wipe his precious feet. When you were done, he proceeded to nudge his foot into the crook of your hips.

“Pick all the glass.” 

You wished the ground would swallow you. Here you were on all fours, picking glass pieces at the feet of three men, one being the man you had never wanted to witness your mortification. As you hurried, the minute shards pierced your palms, drawing blood. 

When you bit your lips and raised your head, you saw two soft grey eyes looking at you with concern. The indignity was too much to bear, and you gathered all the shards and fled into the room. The grey eyes followed you, unaware that a pair of cold black eyes were staring at them with dark malice.   

***** When the two men turned to leave, the Prince waved one hand at Jimin saying, “Jimin will stay behind.” You instinctively stiffened on hearing it. 

Seeing Jimin look at you with such softness had kindled a fire in the Prince’s chest. He had to establish who you belonged to. 

“You! You ruined my feet on the pretext of cleaning them. Let me hear you whip yourself ten times,” he yelled from the door. 

You hung your head, catching sight of Jimin’s horrified face when you reached for the whip. 

As the whip cracked through the air, hitting you and bringing broken gasps of pain, the Prince enjoyed the growing look of dismay on his subordinate’s face. 

“Is she counting right?” he asked Jimin lazily. The officer stood motionless, unable to respond. When he was finally excused after the sounds of the whip ceased, he turned and marched away, wiping the tears in his eyes.  

Back in the lair, the only words directed to you after Jimin had left were, “Don’t you dare graze me with those shards. I don’t want your blood on me either.”

 As much as it had irked him to make you whip yourself, he justified it to himself that it was to keep Jimin from looking at you that way again. He was sure the man knew what you had been really punished for. He would make up for the pain by going easy on you that night. But he had to change his mind because when he reached to touch you, he was annoyed by the way you flinched. Well, if you wouldn’t behave, you quite deserved the whip. That was one load off his chest, sympathy didn’t really suit him.  

*****   The next day, you were alone in the lair, an official duty had required Prince Jeon to ride far away, on a trip spanning three days. You were considering retiring to your little room when there was a hesitant knock on the door. 

You didn’t recognize this knock. It wasn’t the maids, they ignored you when the Prince was away. It couldn’t be the Prince either, he had left early, he was accustomed to throwing the door open without knocking anyway. 

You opened the door slowly, catching sight of a breathless Jimin in the foyer. He stood there panting, unsure of himself. Finally, he pulled himself together.

“Miss? I was wondering if I could have a word with you?” 

You nodded your head, and he hastily added, “Not here.” 

He looked around to see if anyone was watching. “Could you meet me by the rose bushes?” 

There was an urgency in his voice and you replied in the affirmative. He left as abruptly as he had come, not turning back once. 

You made sure you were dressed as inconspicuously as possible, and threw a cloak on, before slipping out of the room unnoticed. The rose bushes were in a dark spot of the Royal gardens, and it was secluded enough to provide privacy. 

When you reached the bushes, Jimin was already waiting for you, his hands in the pockets of his breeches. 

“Miss, I can’t express how sorry I am, it was all my fault yesterday that you had to harm yourself,” he started, his words tumbling out in a rapid torrent. 

He extended his palm towards you with a soft “If I may..” 

When you gave him your hands, he examined the little cut wounds on your palms. 

“I am truly sorry for the suffering I caused you,” he repeated, his eyes now glistening as he took in the welts on your forearm. 

Instinctively you pulled the frills on the sleeves to hide them. He didn’t need to see them and feel more guilty. But he had already seen them, his heart bleeding on seeing you trying to put on a brave face for him. 

“Please do not worry, officer. I am fine. I really am.”

  “Please, call me Jimin. I have to tell you something else, miss” he said.

 “Please call me Y/N. No one here even knows my name,” you mumbled. 

You wanted to hear your name roll off his tongue, you wanted to hear your name pronounced in his mellow voice. 

“Y/N,” he repeated, looking deep into your eyes, “I came to tell you as soon as I heard it. The Prince has requested another Cimarin and the King was just discussing with the minister on whether he should get rid of you.” 

This was something you already knew, except for the fact that the King wouldn’t let the Prince have two Cimarins. 

“I came to tell you I will do everything in my power to help you if you want to escape,” he continued. 

Your eyes widened. So did he care about you, the lowly Cimarin? There was heavy silence before you spoke. 

“But wouldn’t that be treason, Jimin?” you asked in a low voice. 

He looked torn between his Royal obligation and his need to help you. 

“I am prepared to face anything if it ensures your safety,” he replied. 

Your heart swelled on seeing his earnest face. 

“I think the Prince would not relinquish his hold of me that easily. There is still time. But I thank you sincerely for offering your help.” 

He shifted on his feet hesitantly, almost like he wasn’t sure if he should say what he was about to say next. “Can I meet you again? Would you mind coming with me to a certain place tomorrow?” 

Your heart fluttered wildly in your chest, and you replied: “I’d love to.” 

A relieved smile blossomed on his face, and he gently raised your hand to his lips, placing a chaste kiss on your knuckles. Little did he know of the storm the feeling of his lips was causing inside you. 

He waited for you to leave first, promising to call on you the next day. Suddenly after so many days of darkness, it felt like the sun was beginning to rise in your life.   

*****

The next day, Jimin was there at your doorstep again, true to his promise. 

“I hope you ride?” he asked as he extended his arm to you. 

“I’m afraid I don’t,” you replied shyly. 

He grinned and patted your arm, saying, “Not to worry, Y/N.” 

He smuggled you out of the Royal grounds, taking you to the stables. There was a gorgeous steed swishing its tail, tied to a tree. You pulled the hood of your cloak to hide your face, eyes scanning the surroundings to make sure no one saw you. 

Jimin mounted the horse with a graceful jump and held his hand out to you. His strong arms pulled you up in a side-saddle position, to make up for the lack of your riding habit. He galloped off into the woods, holding you in place between his arms, the wind tearing at your hair. 

It felt wonderful, as if you were on wings, riding to oblivion, far far away from the horrors of the lair. Behind you, Jimin’s warm chest felt like a wall of safety, resting on your back and spreading tendrils of happiness all over you. 

On reaching the heart of the woods, he helped you dismount, and led his horse to water, tying it up securely. When he returned, he was smiling broadly, with no trace of condescendence in his eyes, very unlike the Prince’s. 

He led you to the banks of a small rivulet flowing through the woods, laying his robe down for you to sit on. He sat down beside you, saying, “Hold my hand.” 

He composed himself for a moment and said: “There is something about you that keeps drawing me to you.” 

Blood rose to your cheeks, painting them red as you bent down, trying your best to hide your shy smile. He reached out to lift your chin and found you blushing furiously. He wanted to be sure you liked him too before he made a fool of himself. 

“Y/N,” he murmured, searching your eyes. “Do you feel the same way about me?” 

This felt too good to be true. Was this a dream? You couldn’t believe your ears. 

“Jimin, is this out of pity? Everyone else despises me at the Palace,” you breathed. 

He scoffed and shook his head. 

“Do you think I care about what they think? And no, this is not out of pity. I offered to help you, yes, but this is something that I’ve been meaning to ask you for quite some time.” 

He looked ahead at the water, lost in thought. 

“I like you,” you said softly. 

At that, his head turned to you, blonde hair dancing over his eyes. 

“Did you just say what I thought I heard you say?”

You said nothing, choosing to smile wide instead. He clasped your hand tightly, joy evident on his features. 

“But don’t you find me repulsive? I am just the Prince’s…” 

He placed a finger on your lips before you could say anymore. “Don’t beat yourself up thinking like that. You did not choose to do it. You were forced to obey a Royal order.” 

He squeezed your hand reassuringly, adding, “I would never find you repulsive. It is a promise upon my honor.” 

Tears welled in your eyes, as a huge burden was lifted off your shoulders. He genuinely liked you, he didn’t think you were easy prey, nor did he look down on you. Maybe your future wasn’t bleak after all. You nestled closer to him and wrapped his free hand around your shoulder. 

Fondness flooded his face as he ruffled your hair. God, he was going to take such good care of you. He had been unable to sleep the whole night on that wretched day, his ears ringing with the cracks of the whip. He shuddered and pulled you closer. He wouldn’t mind if he had to die to protect you from that monster of a Prince. 

The whole afternoon passed with comfortable ease, both of you talking and getting to know each other better. It was the first time in months that you breathed freely, laughing at Jimin’s little jokes and marveling at the way his eyes regarded you. 

On the ride back to the Palace, he held the reins in one hand, the other arm wrapped around your waist, holding you as if you were a precious treasure to him. That night was the first in months that you slept without any worry about the future. You had a person who loved you with all his heart, Cimarin or not.   

*****

The three days Prince Jeon had been away were the ones you treasured the most. They were filled with happiness and laughs, delicate holding of hands and deep talk. The more you talked, the more you fell for Jimin. 

You remembered how he had attempted to kiss you; he had been remarkably nervous for a cavalryman who was used to fighting battles. He had cupped your face in his hands, tilting his head to align his lips with yours. Just as his breath had ghosted your lips, you had pulled away. You still remembered the shocked look on his face. 

He had begun to stammer his apologies before you had cut him short saying, “I want to kiss you as your woman, and your woman only. Not as the Cimarin.” 

You giggled when you recalled how relieved he looked on hearing that. True, he had tried to get a kiss from you at least five times after that, proclaiming that he did not care about sentiments like those. But you had slipped from his arms every time, teasing him, saying it would all be worth the wait. 

As you lay on the bed with your eyes closed, a cold voice shook you out of your pleasant reverie. 

“What the devil are you grinning about?” 

You jumped to your feet in horror, the Prince had returned already. He looked at you with narrowed eyes, which were heavy with fatigue. Without waiting for your reply, he pulled you towards him, collapsing on the bed with his arms wrapped snugly around your waist. He fell asleep within seconds, arms hugging you tight. As you lay there in his embrace, you couldn’t help wishing it were Jimin holding you, not the Prince. You smiled again, even thinking about him made bliss course through your veins. 

What were you going to do to hold on to his hand? He was the only bright light in your tunnel of darkness. You looked down at the head resting on your bosom. God forbid the Prince ever found out about Jimin.   

***** Weeks later, a rumor wafted through the Royal household, multiplying as it passed each ear and left each mouth. Someone had claimed that they had seen a Palace horse in the woods, carrying a rider and a cloaked woman. 

It made your face go pale when your maids talked about it while they were dressing you up for the day. Your heart beat faster, not able to control the fear that threatened to make your lips tremble. 

Fortunately, your maids didn’t notice, too busy gossiping away. But the Prince did. He cast one look at your face and raised his eyebrows.

 “Don’t tell me it is time for you to retire to your room for the month already. I might have you whipped for making me come this far for nothing.” 

You shook your head, not trusting your voice.

“What else is it then?” he huffed. 

You weren’t sure if he knew it yet. Palace horses weren’t for romantic trysts, and you knew it would cause serious trouble if the rumor was reported to him. 

“It is nothing your Highness,” you replied, crossing your fingers, “I just have a headache.” 

To your surprise, he placed his thumbs on your temples, pressing them lightly. His face was impassive, but his touch was unusually gentle. 

“Stop squirming,” he said, holding his thumbs in place, keeping your back pressed against his chest. “Better?” he asked, pulling your jaw to face him. 

“Y-Yes…” you stammered. 

This was unusual and somehow scary. Prince Jeon was actually in deep thought. He had been told of the Palace horse incident that morning, but he hadn’t a clue on who the miscreants were. He decided to call the cavalry officers and investigate, but he didn’t want to send you out into the sun with your headache. 

“Get one of the maids, and tell them I summoned officers Shin Ho and Park Jimin,” he murmured to you. 

You obediently left and returned when you had sent a maid on the errand. The Prince was pacing the room, his mind preoccupied with the events that had happened the previous night. 

His father had sent for him, telling him there was a prospective bride for him from the Kingdom of Huwan. He had provided a portrait of the Princess Leila of Huwan, beautifully rendered in pastels by the Royal artist. Instead of being thrilled, the Prince found himself staring at the portrait in dismay. 

The Princess did look captivatingly beautiful, but he felt nothing, she didn’t stir his heart. He had listened to his father talk about all the political ties the union would bring and all the wealth that would reach the Royal coffers. 

“This is a wonderful proposal, and I want you to consider this carefully,” the King had told him. 

Prince Jeon had been caught off-guard. He hadn’t expected to get married at nineteen, but when it came to issues of Royal unions, it was the King’s word that ultimately prevailed. This was a dilemma and according to him, you were the root cause of it. You had messed with his mind and ruined him. But he couldn’t think of a way to salvage the situation. 

Just as all these thoughts were running through his mind, you returned and stood by the bed as was the custom. Damn you. Why hadn’t you been born a Princess? He hated you for placing him in such a knot. He stood observing your lowered head, those eyelashes dusting your cheeks, making you look the picture of innocence. His attention was broken by the sound of footsteps on the foyer, followed by a brisk knock. 

You ran to open the door, moving back to the farthest corner of the room after the Prince reached the doorstep. 

“Shin Ho,” the Prince began, “It has come to my ears that someone from the Palace had taken a woman to the woods on a Palace steed during my absence. It appears that they were engaged in a liaison, such was the report that reached me.” 

As the Prince addressed officer Shin Ho, unadulterated shock registered on Jimin’s face, and he caught sight of you standing behind the Prince, hands covering your mouth to muffle your gasp. 

“This kind of behavior is inexcusable; I want you to inquire into this. I want to know which bastard had the nerve to take one of my horses for a dalliance with some woman.” 

You found yourself struggling to breathe. An innocent stroll in the woods had been warped into an ugly liaison by wagging tongues. What would happen if someone in the stables remembered that Jimin had taken a horse on the specific day and let it slip to officer Shin Ho? You were shaking in apprehension when Jimin caught your eye and shook his head subtly. 

‘Don’t give yourself away,’ his eyes seemed to tell you. 

Prince Jeon discussed with the officers for some more time, telling them how the issue was to be handled. When the officers finally took their leave, you were rooted to the spot, not hearing when the Prince called you twice. 

“Have you gone deaf?” he hollered, shaking you by the shoulders. “What has gotten into you?” 

He was half-distracted by the Princess Leila issue that your shaky limbs and guilt-ridden face didn’t quite register on his usually sharp mind. He wanted to forget everything for some time and get lost inside you. He let go of your shoulders. 

“On your knees, take me in your mouth.” 

When you dropped down to your knees and obediently started working your mouth on his member, he wondered if he could order Princess Leila to do all the things he made you do to him. He closed his eyes to recall her face from the portrait, but to his surprise, he couldn���t even remember how she looked like. Your face kept flashing, replacing hers on the portrait in his subconscious eye. You had become a threat to his sanity.   

***** Exactly one fortnight later, the King summoned Prince Jeon again, asking him for his decision. It was just rhetorical, both of them knew, because the King had already made up his mind and had sent a pigeon to the King of Huwan. 

The news somehow broke out and spread through the Palace like wildfire. When your maids arrived the next day, one of them gave you a haughty look before saying, “I am so eager to see how you would perform your duties as the chambermaid, O mighty Cimarin.” 

Her mouth stretched into a sneer when you looked at her with bewildered eyes.

 “Whatever do you mean?” 

She clucked her tongue, whispering: “We are going to have a proper Princess in this household, someone worthy of the Prince’s attention. I can’t wait to see her kick you out of the Palace. Because, my dear, you are nothing but scum.” 

“And what do you think you are?” a deep voice boomed behind you, as Prince Jeon stood with his nose flaring. 

The maid immediately straightened, muttering incoherent syllables of explanation as the Prince ambled forward, laying a hand on your shoulder. 

He leaned in towards her, making her uncomfortable, and looked straight at her eyes hissing, “You are not to step foot inside the Royal grounds. I will have you beheaded if I see you again.” You saw the woman’s countenance turn ashen. 

“Your Highness, was she telling the truth?” you asked slowly, after the terrified woman fled the room. 

“What was she telling you?” he asked, looking at your reflection in the mirror of the vanity table.

 “That you will be having a bride…” your voice trailed off. 

His hand left your shoulder as if it had been scalded. So you had come to know about it? He misread the look on your face, assuming you were mocking him. You thought he was too drunk with a Cimarin to marry a Princess? Well, he would prove you wrong. 

“Yes, I am.”

 He straightened to stand at his full height, as you rose quickly to your feet. He couldn’t decipher the reaction on your face. Were you as annoyed about it as he was? He wanted to make you hurt as much as he was hurting inside. 

“Well?” he asked, “What is with that look?” 

He cocked his head to the side, saying, “You didn’t expect me to….”

 He threw his head back in mirth. “You thought I would marry you?” 

He laughed loudly, seeing your face twist in humiliation. 

“You are nothing but a concubine” he sneered. “I would never marry a woman like you.” 

He saw the way your lips trembled, shame evident on your face. It made him feel better, he did not want to suffer alone, he had to make you suffer with him. When he left your room an hour later, leaving your body ravaged and bitten, he was sure he had broken you, as much as you had broken him.  

*****

As the months reduced to weeks, and the weeks flew by in haste, the Prince’s behavior towards you became more and more hysterical. He taunted and jibed at you without the slightest provocation. 

He was nervous, unsure of how he would handle his new bride. He released all of his nervous anxiety on you, belittling you and hurting your mind as well as your body. 

At long last, the day of the wedding grew nearer, and the King and Queen of Huwan arrived at the capital. The Palace was decorated with the finest of the Kingdom’s artworks. All-day long, the maids polished the silver and china till they sparkled and shone. The whole Palace was buzzing with feverish excitement, caught up in the whirlwind of the Royal wedding. 

The Prince, however, didn’t stop visiting you. If anything, he visited more often than he had ever done. He never spoke anything about his impending wedding, choosing to talk about your worthlessness instead. You felt like all the insults he hurled at you were sinking in, threatening to make you believe you were nothing more than a slave destined to die at his feet. 

You hadn’t seen Jimin since the day the Prince sent him out to inquire about the misuse of the Palace horse. The only solace you had in these dark times was the memories of those three carefree magical days in the woods.   

It was the eve of the wedding, and all the servants of the Royal household had been instructed to gather in the threshold of the Royal Hall to welcome the new bride. You stood at the very back of the line of servants, craning your neck to see what the new Princess looked like. 

A few minutes later, a magnificent carriage drew up to the steps, and out stepped the most beautiful woman you had ever seen. Her clothes were made of the loveliest satin, and everything about her features screamed perfection. She had elaborate jet-black curls arranged in ringlets, framing her face and setting off her pale skin perfectly. 

The Prince reached out to her, kissing her knuckles and requesting her arm, to which she happily obliged. She glided up the steps, accepting the welcome of the servants with a gentle bow of her head. The Prince was searching for you along the rows and smirked haughtily when he caught your eyes. As they sailed into the specially decorated ballroom, you couldn’t help thinking they looked perfect for each other. 

You knew the Prince would always be on the best of his behavior with his bride. Because after all, Royal wives were for soft lovemaking and breeding heirs, while Cimarins were for satisfying animalistic desires.   

******

The Royal wedding took place with eminent people from far and wide in attendance. 

The Prince had looked his smartest, in a crisp white wedding suit, with gold piping along the shoulders and Royal decorations adorning the breast of his suit. The Princess had glowed in a dreamy white gown, tailored to show off her slender body beautifully. 

As the guests retired to the ballroom for toasts, a hand pulled you to a relatively abandoned area of the Palace. 

“Y/N,” Jimin whispered, “I almost went mad without seeing you for months.” 

His face looked deeply troubled, and he continued, “Come away with me, I shall take you to the farthest land from here, and we shall live as man and wife.” 

Your mouth fell open, the prospect of running away numbing you into silence. 

When you finally regained control over your voice, you asked, “How can we go away without getting caught? The Royal guards are everywhere. How would we cross the borders of the Kingdom?” 

He shrugged his shoulders. “Leave all of it to me, I only seek your consent. I shall take care of everything.” 

He pressed your hands in his, earnest eyes looking determined. 

“I shall come with you,” you said, squeezing his hands and nodding your head urgently. 

His whole face lit up with elation, all the worry washing away. 

“I will come back and take you when I have everything ready,” he promised and left you after kissing your hands. 

When you walked back to your lair, there was a ball of fear crushing your chest, making it difficult to breathe.   

*****

As you lay on the bed tossing and turning, worrying about Jimin and how you were supposed to escape the Royal guards, there was a heavy rain pouring outside. Everyone had rejoiced that it was a good omen on a wedding night, but to you, the thunder rumbling outside only served to make the night eerier. 

Sleep refused to touch your eyelids, and the wind howling outside your window made your worry grow even more pronounced. 

Suddenly, the door was thrown open with a crash, and a flash of lightning illuminated the profile of the Prince, standing framed by the doorway. He walked in unsteadily, holding a bottle in his hand, swaying slightly. 

The man had been thoroughly intoxicated, the front of his white dressing gown soaked with alcohol. It clung to his body, the white fabric sheer with all the alcohol, showing off his chest with every flash of lightning. He chuckled in a drunken stupor, pulling the sheets and clawing at your legs. You were terrified. This was his wedding night, and what was he doing here, hovering over your legs? 

He took another swig from the bottle and threw it away, the glass shattering to pieces as he wiped his mouth with his forearm. There was an ominous smirk on his face now, and he pushed your legs apart as wide as he could. 

He would never tell a soul what had really happened in his bedroom a couple hours before. He had watched his bride undress sensually, and had noted how much effort she put into making it appeal to him. He had caressed her breasts, running his fingers over her body. He had peeled all the layers of fabric from her body expecting to grow hard. But he had felt nothing. 

Nothing was stirring in his breeches, and to his horror, he had found he was flaccid, his body showing no response to her nakedness. The Royal women were not educated on matters of the bedroom, so she was blissfully unaware of his problem. His cheeks had started burning, he could not allow himself to be humiliated like that. 

He had to imagine your scrunched up face and work on his member to get it hard. When he had entered her and started rocking his hips, he had found the lovemaking too slow for him to enjoy. He had always been a man of feral passion with you, and the irritating slowness had made him go crazy. But he had known better than to be harsh with his bride, he would always have to be careful to never let that side of him slip. When he had finally done the deed, he had escaped as soon as she had drifted off to sleep. The mortification had made him go in search of alcohol, and finally, in search of you.   

As he pushed into you, he let out a long drawn out moan, almost demonic in nature. He started thrusting like a mad man, trying to prove to himself that he had not lost his masculinity and that he was indeed a man of vigor. You caught sight of his eyes, blown wide, as he rammed into you with all his might. 

The lightning made his eyes look predatory, and his snarling teeth made it more frightening. His sounds echoed throughout the room, the bed creaking in harmony with his loud grunts. Finally, when he climaxed, he threw his head back in euphoria. He bit his lip as he emptied himself inside you, deciding he would never let go of you. You were always going to be his Cimarin. 

*****

You woke with a start when a fresh peal of thunder sounded outside, to find the Prince draped over you, his tousled hair tickling your chin. You gently nudged him awake. 

“Your Highness, it is almost dawn.” 

He mumbled sleepily, looking at you in confusion before realization hit him. 

“Quick, dress me up,” he commanded urgently. 

It would never do for the Prince to be caught sleeping away from his wife on the first dawn of his married life. He bolted through the door as quickly as he could, not looking back at you once. The shattered glass was lying everywhere, and you got to work cleaning it, wondering if this was going to happen every night until you escaped.   

***** It was exactly a week later that officer Shin Ho requested an audience with Prince Jeon. He brought a young stable boy with him and had a quick meeting with the Prince. When he left, the Prince was fuming and trembling with anger. He marched straight to the lair, throwing the door open with unusual force. The bed was empty, and you were gone.   

“Hold on a little tighter, lamb. I don’t want you to fall,” Jimin said, riding as fast as he could. 

He was tearing through the wind, whip cracking in the air as he urged his horse to go faster. The hooves were thudding as loudly as your heart was. This time around, you were seated behind him, clasping his waist in your arms, chest draped on his back. You held on tighter and closed your eyes, praying to every powerful force in the world to deliver you safely from the clutches of the Prince. 

You were sure the Prince would have found you were missing by now, and there was a definite possibility that the best riders of the Kingdom had been dispatched to alert the guards at the borders. 

You rode on for what seemed like hours until you had to stop to let the horse drink water. 

“You feeling alright, love?” Jimin asked, catching stray strands of hair and tucking them behind your ears. 

You nodded, collapsing into his chest in a tight hug. 

“You will be alright,” he said, kissing the top of your head, patting your back reassuringly. 

“Let me ask you something, you once said that you liked me. But, fair maiden, do you love me?” 

His eyes twinkled as you peeled yourself from him to look at him indignantly. 

“I would not have come this far if I hadn’t loved and trusted you,” you said and hit his chest with balled fists. 

He chuckled merrily, catching hold of your small fists with a fond look lighting up his features. 

“Let us go then, my love, we shall go far away from all this din and love each other to our heart’s content.” 

******

When you resumed riding, it was past midday, you could tell from the short shadows cast on the ground. You had ridden on for a few more hours when you reached a forest. 

“We need to cross this if we are to avoid going into the village,” Jimin said, cajoling the horse to trot past the prickly bushes that were overgrown on both sides. 

They scratched and jabbed, but you made no complaint, it was nothing compared to what the Prince had done to you ever so often. 

Suddenly, your ears caught a sound, which felt like it came from right ahead of you. You strained your ears, patting Jimin slowly to let him know that you had heard something. 

“Jimin, I think…” you were saying, when an arrow shot right through the trees, hitting Jimin straight at his chest, causing him to gasp and topple from the horse. Frightened by the sudden movement, the horse reared and bucked, throwing you off before fleeing into the dense forest. 

“Jimin! Jimin!’ you cried, kneeling and tapping his face. 

Only then did you see the arrow still sticking out from his chest, drawing blood that pooled around him, staining the forest floor. You started wailing, calling his name out like a prayer, trying to keep him conscious. 

“Y/N,” he breathed out, coughing, blood spurting from his mouth. 

“No no no Jimin, stay with me, don’t leave me” you sobbed, tears flowing and landing on his face. 

“Y/N, ” he said again, blood pouring from the sides of his mouth in a steady stream now. His eyes were losing their luster, and his breathing was becoming rugged. He struggled to keep his eyes open and parted his lips to form a whisper.

“Kiss me.” 

You bent down urgently to place your lips on his, crashing your mouth on his in desperation. But you were met with no yield, his lips did not move to kiss you back. When you pulled away in confusion to look at him, his eyes had stilled, and a lone tear trickled out of the corner of his eyes.

Your wails filled the air, each powerful sob racking your body as you screamed out, wringing your heart in anguish. There was nothing more for you to do, the only light in your life had been snuffed out. It hurt you like someone had punched a hole in your chest, and pulled your heart through your ribs. 

As you kneeled there, your clothes bloodied and Jimin’s head on your lap, the thunder of hooves growing nearer sent vibrations coursing through the ground. 

A pair of riding boots dismounted from the horse with a thud, and you heard a disgustingly familiar sing-song voice saying, “Well well, if it isn’t the Kingdom’s whore.” 

Your tear-filled eyes made out the blurred figure of the body you knew only too well. 

“I could cut you to pieces for betraying me like this, whore!” he said, drawing his sword out and placing it on your shoulder, the blade pressing into the side of your neck. 

“But what is the thrill in that?” he pulled his sword back, the blade cutting the skin of your neck and drawing blood. 

You remained kneeling on the ground, eyes blank, not moving or uttering anything. 

He bent down and bunched your hair in his fist, pulling you up with a harsh tug. 

“You will return to the Palace with me, and serve my wife. You will be the chambermaid, and I shall strip you of your honor, I shall enjoy doing so.” 

His hold on your hair tightened, and he pulled your face closer, placing a volley of stinging slaps on your cheeks until his hands smarted. 

“Lying, scheming ungrateful whore,” he spat out, throwing you over his horse. 

You were lying uncomfortably across the horse, head and legs on either side of the animal. From your position, you saw Jimin’s body lying on the ground, face upturned towards the sky, your eyes never leaving his body as the horse trotted farther and farther away from the scene until he became a dot and disappeared from your line of sight.   

****** Your hand clutched the small hunting knife you had extracted from Jimin’s robes. Life was no longer worth living, there was no Jimin anymore to love you and protect you. You would rather get beheaded than go live with this monster again, you would not endure his violence any longer. There was no reason to endure him, as you now had no purpose in life. You decided it would be better to be hanged than serve Prince Jeon again. 

Clasping the knife tightly, you raised yourself from your awkward position and turned, seeing the surprise on the Prince’s face turn into horror when you sliced the knife through the air, plunging it into his heart with all your might. Both of you fell on the ground, rolling in the dust. 

The knife was embedded deeply in his chest and only a part of the hilt jutted out. You screamed like a madwoman, rushing to your feet and climbing over him, swinging your legs on either side of him. You pulled with all your strength, and retrieved the knife, stabbing him again with as much force you could muster. The Prince’s mouth opened and closed several times, straining to clear the blood that was choking his breath. 

You didn’t stop screaming as you reached out to clasp your hands around his neck, pressing hard and never letting go. The screams leaving your body turned into powerful sobs, your hands only left his neck when his pulse had stopped throbbing. 

His eyes had bulged wide in his fight for air. You let go and rolled off of him, the catharsis hitting you like a wall of bricks. The monster had finally been killed. 

*****   It was a glorious morning, you could hear the sweet chirping of birds drifting through the air. 

You were at peace, all feelings wiped from your mind as you were led through the dark corridors. 

The chains on your hands and feet were clanking with each step. The long corridor opened into an arena, where hundreds of people had gathered. 

When you were led to the guillotine on the podium, the chains were loosened and your hands were cuffed. 

You looked at the sky, which was a beautiful rosy pink. It reminded you of Jimin. You smiled. He always brought a smile on your face. 

“Off with her head,” the King bellowed. 

You raised your face to the sky one last time. 

“I’m coming Jimin, I shall come to you and kiss you, my love,” you whispered, closing your eyes.  

[hard-boiled-criminal]

Planetary Magick: 2

(Twisted wonderland x reader)

Masterlist

_______________________

Unedited

“Yeah…charming.” Apparently, by ‘charm,’ the headmaster meant ‘dilapidated and might have asbestos.’

An old Iron fence surrounded the perimeter, the bars mangled and twisted, as if something rammed into it over and over at each possible section of fence. You could only hope that whatever did that was no longer here. Unsurprisingly, the fencing was rusted in many places and had dead vines draped around them, no doubt having tried to survive on the fence but to no avail. What stood out as odd to you though, was the gate: it had an intricate design reminiscent of the black skeletal structure of a stained-glass window. Though it was odd to see these graceful curves and patterns on the gate compared to the arrow-headed fencing, it was something else that put you off. The gate itself was in pristine condition—no rust or dents whatsoever. You noticed an old, rusted padlock on the ground nearby, which was most likely used to seat the gate once upon a time, but that only lead to more confusion about why only the gate was so well taken care off.

The grounds themselves were mostly barren, save for a few vertical hedges and some dead trees. The dorm building itself sat atop the small hill and was in pretty bad shape. All the windows had been sloppily boarded up and patches of shingles were missing from all over the roof.

“Right, right,” Crowley brushed off your comment and lead you up the stone stairs towards the dorm. “Please come inside.”

             ‘Maybe it’s not that bad on the inside?’

Scratch that, you felt like the guy on the receiving end of “Sike! That’s the wrong number!” You didn’t think it could get even worse, but the interior proved you wrong. It was a complete mess inside; furniture stained and overturned, firewood and books scattered everywhere, cobwebs and spiderwebs in every nook and cranny, paintings and pictures either crooked on the wall or on the ground. The wallpaper was peeling at the seams with patches missing all over, and one of the wall sconces was completely broken, both the lightbulb and glass cover missing. And while the floorboards looked okay, there was no doubt in your mind that some of them were definitely rotted and would collapse under your weight in a heartbeat.

You turn and blankly stare at the headmaster. Did he really believe these were suitable living conditions? You were almost positive there was mold in this run-down dorm, and who knows which ones pose a threat to you since you’re an alien? “Does OSHA not exist here or something?”

“I’m sorry, but I do not believe I have heard of this ‘oh-shuh,’” Crowley replied, sounding honest.

“The Occupational Safety and Health Administration?” You got a blank look from Crowley. You sighed, “figures…” ‘Note to self: learn how to establish a government-funded fantasy OSHA so you can pile Crowley with violation fines. Or at least threaten him with them so he’ll fix up the damn place.’

“Staying here will at least keep you out of the rain,” he rushed to get his sentences out. Maybe he got nervous when he heard you say ‘safety and health?’ “I’m going back to do more research. Make yourself at home. Don’t go wandering around the school! Goodbye!” With that, Crowley rushed out the door in a hurry.

‘Well fuck. First order of business: cleaning up lest I die of never-ending sneezing fits.’ You were only able to get all the furniture upright before it started to rain, making you lose all focus and run to peak out a window, trying to get a good angle to see the rain, and hopefully lightning, through the boards.

You’ve always loved the sounds of rain and thunder. More importantly, there was finally something normal. Hearing the rain pattering against window and seeing the occasional flashes of lighting in the distance relaxed you. Out of habit, you counted the seconds between the lightning and thunder to estimate how far away it was. You counted eight seconds before you heard the low rumbling of thunder.

You sighed, content, before you remembered, “It’s storming! I can collect storm water!” You ran to the first door you saw and flung it open to see what looked to be a kitchen. Excited to finally get a round of good luck, you searched through the cabinets, grabbing any jars and bowls you could find. You found a total of three glass jars, which you removed the lids from, and two large bowls. You stacked the bowls and placed the jars as best as you could inside the top bowl before heading back out the front door. You walked out from the covered entrance into the rain and placed the containers along the side of the stone path so they wouldn’t be in the way. The rain started to fall heavily, forcing you to run back inside before you were completely drenched. Luckily, the large hooded cloak you wore kept you dry for the most part. You carefully pulled off the partially-singed wet coat and draped it across the back of the rocking chair you righted earlier to dry.

“Hyii! It’s really coming down!”

Startled, you snapped your head to face the direction the voice came from, only to be met with that same bakeneko (monster cat) that tried to incinerate you.

“Gyahaha! You’ve got this stupid look on your face like a spider being attacked by a water gun!” The bakeneko cackled at you. They must have snuck in when you set out the bowls and jars. “I’ll have no trouble sneaking back into school. If you think getting thrown out is gonna make me give up on getting in, you’ve got another thing coming!”

“Mm, well good luck little bakeneko. It might help to not set the school on fire,” you gave them some helpful advice.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. All that matters is that I get into this school,” the bakeneko brushed off your words. “Afterall, I’m a genius who is destined to be a great magician! I've been waiting for the Ebony Carriage to come pick me up. But... But... Hmph! The Dark Mirror just doesn't have an eye for this. So that's why I came here on my own. Not letting me in would be a loss for the world; humans just don't get it.”

“Well, I have to agree with you on the Dark Mirror part. Afterall, it decided to kidnap me, and I can’t do any of that flash-bang-boom magic you’ve been throwin’ around.” ‘But I can do other magick… I wonder if they have my kind of magick here… I’ll have to do some research later…’

“Wha? You can’t use magic? Pfft! You’re useless!” The bakeneko shrieked as a drop of water fell on him through the ceiling. “So cold! The roof is leaking!” He didn’t move out of the way before another drop hit him. “Fgyaa! It keeps coming! My adorable ear fire is gonna go out at this rate!”

‘Instant karma, bitch.’ You sighed, “I guess I’ll go get one of the bowls.”

“Magic should fix this leak up real quick, but you don’t got any.”

“Yeah, yeah, I can’t make things go boom, I get it. If you’ve got such a problem with the leak, why don’t you fix it yourself, bakeneko?” You said over your shoulder as you walked to the door to collect one of the bowls from outside.

“Huh? Help you? No way! I’m just a regular monster staying in a rainy place. You better get a can of tuna ready before I do any work.”

You shrugged. “Fine. Suit yourself.” You felt a drop of water land on your head this time. ‘Looks like I’ll need to get both of the bowls.’ You grabbed your damp cloak from the rocking chair and quickly threw it on before running outside towards the bowls. They had already collected about half a centimeter of storm water, and not wanting to waste it, you poured the contents of the bowls into the closest jar. Sprinting back inside, you first placed the bowls down at your feet so you could quickly peel off your now-soaked cloak and hang it back on the rocking chair. You placed the bowls under what looked to be the worst leaks in the lounge area. ‘I wonder if there’s a cleaning bucket or something in a closet somewhere.’

“Yo, I’m gonna go see if they’ve got a bucket somewhere,” you notified the bakeneko, not getting an answer, as expected.

You peered over into a nearby hallway, suddenly much more nervous as you stared down the long, dark hallway. ‘This feels like a horror game and I hate it.’ You tentatively took a step forward, and then another. You made it about five slow steps in before the floor loudly squeaked under your weight. ‘I just had an interesting thought: Actually, fuck this.’ You spun on your heel with false bravado, your entire body now tense. As you stiffly walked back towards the lounge, you froze in place as you felt the familiar tingle of eyes watching you. ‘Okay. Don’t look back. Just. Just keep walking. Put one foot in front of the other.’

It turns out it didn’t matter if you looked back or not because three ghosts suddenly appeared in front of you. They… didn’t look how you’d expect ghosts to look like. These ones looked more… cartoonish. They weren’t half as scary-looking as some of the monsters you’d seen in Scooby-Doo.

One of the ghosts giggled while the other two spoke, “We haven’t had a guest in so long…” Said one.

“I’m itching for some action,” said the other.

“Yeah, no, I’ll pass. I’ve had enough excitement for one day, thanks,” their completely underwhelming appearance circumvented practically all your initial fear, leaving you with only pure exhaustion. You didn’t have much of a filter in this state, but you didn’t really give two shits about what you said when you were tired anyway.

“Why are you talking to yourself…” the bakeneko walked around the corner and stopped dead in his tracks. “Gyaaa! G-g-g-g-ghooosts!”

Looked like someone was afraid of the cartoon ghosts.

“The people living here got scared of us and left,” a ghost explained.

“We’ve been looking for more ghost pals,” another spoke. “How about you guys?”

“Deadass? Fuckin’ go for it.”

The ghosts and bakeneko looked a bit shocked that you blatantly agreed to let them kill you to turn you into a ghost.

“Wow, you guys aren’t up to date on humor, are you?”

The bakeneko was the first to snap out of disbelief and shouted, “Grim, the Great Magician, isn’t scared of some ghosts!”

‘Heh, I ain’t afraid of no ghost.’ You had to mentally remind yourself to not start humming the ghost busters theme.

Grim, as you now learned his name was (you think), spewed more of that bright blue fire, completely missing all of the ghosts.

“Where are you aiming?” The ghosts mocked him and laughed. “Over here, over here!”

“Shoot! Stop disappearing!” Grim uselessly shouted at them and continued to be a living flamethrower.

“My mans, please, stop. At this rate there’ll be no dorm left to keep us dry.”

“Shut up! Don’t try to give me orders!”

“…I’m too tired to deal with this shit anymore. Fine. I’ll get you a can of tuna if you win without burning the house down.” You mumbled the first part before speaking to Grim.

“Wah? Mm, I-I’m a genius. I won’t let one—” Grim tried to keep his stubborn pride but was interrupted by the ghosts’ mocking laughter. “Bunch of cowards, ganging up on us!”

“Two cans. Take it or leave it.”

Your new offer seemed to change Grim’s tune in a heartbeat. “Hey, you! Tell me where the ghosts are!”

“’Kay. On your left,” Grim followed your orders and managed to singe one of the ghosts with his flames.

“I hit it!” Grim shouted, now sounding excited. “Alright, let’s chase them all outta here!”

Cue you shouting directions at Grim and him spewing fire in said directions. In all honesty, it felt like a pokemon battle. Except your pokemon was a talking cat with a holier-than-thou attitude. And you were fighting actual ghosts—not ghost type pokemon—actual previously-living-human ghosts. After a few minutes of Grim burning the ghosts, however that worked, they eventually fled the scene of your would-be murder.

“E-eh? We…won?” Grim spoke with the disbelief of someone who has never won in life before.

“Yup. Good job bakeneko Grim.”

“Ha-heee, that was scar—No, I wasn’t scared at all!” Oh Grim, what caused you to act like your pride is what matters the most? “This is nothing for the Great Grim! How ‘bout that, ghosts? You done?”

“Hey, don’t taunt them, bakeneko. If they come back, I’m not giving you directions.”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘bakeneko?’ What’s that even mean?”

“Mm, it’s because you’re like a bakeneko. They’re mononoke, yokai, that resemble cats,” Grim looked ready to protest, but you continued before he had the chance, “and are extremely powerful. If you anger a bakeneko, your chances of getting out alive are slim to none.”

“Hmmph, well, I suppose The Great Grim will allow you to call him by such a title.”

Before you could continue to talk about bakeneko and other mononoke or yokai, Crowley came in through the front door just as you and Grim made it back to the lounge.

“Good evening,” he greeted. “I have graciously brought you supper.” That’s when he noticed Grim beside you. “You’re the monster that ran amuck during the entrance ceremony! I threw you out of the school! What are you doing here?”

“Hmph! I exterminated the ghost problem! Be grateful!” Grim puffed out his chest as he spoke, continuing to act high and mighty.

“Hmm? What do you mean by that?”

“…There were ghosts here that wanted to turn us into ghosts,” you blandly explained to the headmaster.

“Now that you mention it, there were some prankster ghosts living here so students keep away from this dormitory. And that's why it is now empty. I'd forgotten that.”

You half-heartedly glared at the headmaster. ‘Oh, how convenient. You put up the broke alien in a haunted house with killer ghosts that you just so happened to forget about.’

“However, hmmmm…” Crowley either didn’t notice or acknowledge your glare. “For you two to work together to get rid of them.”

“I'm not gonna overlook that "together" comment. They were just standing there watching. And I did this for a can of tuna—Ah! I haven't gotten that tuna yet!” Grim spoke, still holding on tight to that attitude of his.

‘Grim, I swear to whatever deities rule this place that you aren’t gonna get those cans of tuna if you keep up this habit of pushing others down to raise yourself up.’

“I'd like the two of you to show me how you exterminated those ghosts.”

‘Crowley, no—'

“But we already got rid of all the ghosts! Before that: Give. Me. Tuna!” Oh Grim, so we can agree sometimes!

“I shall be the ghosts. If you beat me, I'll give you tuna cans. For I am gracious.”

“Uh, no, wait, Mr. Crowley, please—”

“Now then, Transformation Potion!” Crowley pulled a vial of liquid from his coat and downed it in one go. It didn’t take long for him to become transparent and ghost-like.

“Eeeeeeeh, I don't wanna. This is a pain and I have to team up with them again…” Grim whined.

You let out a heavy sigh. “Bakeneko, maybe if you show him how strong your magic is, he’ll let you be a student.”

“Grrrnnuuu,” Grim grumbled, annoyed. “This is the last time! You absolutely, absolutely have to give me the tuna!”

And you found yourself in a pokemon battle once more; this time, it was you and a bakeneko versus an actual living breathing person that can turn into a ghost.

‘If it’s a pokemon battle, might as well use pokemon rules.’ You pointed at the see-through headmaster, “Grim, bite him!”

“Hah? You really are a stupid human!” Grim shouted and spewed fire instead, though he missed like before.

“Fine, we’ll use your fire, but I’m explaining the pokemon system to you later. On your left!”

Turns out, pokemon battles can get boring when it’s just the same thing over and over again. Eventually, it seemed the effects of the potion wore out and Crowley returned to his usual opaque self.

“Hee-haaa…” Grim was panting, trying to catch his breath. “How 'bout that!”

“I can't believe… There is a person who can command monsters,” Crowley spoke in mild awe mixed with disbelief.

‘…Does this world not have pokemon? Should I?... No, I shouldn’t… but what if—what if I introduced myself as Gary Oak and just… no I can’t do that. I can’t tell people “smell ya later.”’

“Hmmm... Actually, my teacher senses were telling me since the uproar during the entrance ceremony that you have talent as an animal or wild beast trainer.”

‘…This man is really making this a cliché pokemon plot… Is this how it all started? Am I the original trainer!? Nah… Unless—’

“But, no matter how…” Crowley began muttering to himself, to quiet for me to make out.

“Hey, just let him stay here,” you were exhausted at this point and the bakeneko had honestly grown on you some. Plus, you needed him around in order to explain pokemon to him.

“What now? Let a monster live here?” You couldn’t see Crowley’s face behind the mask, but you were sure he was giving you a judging look.

“Well, I mean, he did just show you the magic he’s got, which is a whole lot more than I’ve got, and you’re letting me stay here. So why not let him stay? He still a magician, he’s just, well, in the shape of a cat.”

After a few seconds, Crowley sighed, “It can’t be helped.”

“Funa!? Really?!” Grim’s eyes widened and lit up as bright as his flames.

“However, I can't simply allow someone, let alone a monster, into school who wasn't selected by the Dark Mirror. Also, I can't let you be a freeloader here until you return to your own world.”

“Talk about short-lived joy…”

“Listen until the end,” Crowley then turned to you. “Concerning the fact that your soul was called here, the school has to take responsibility as the owners of the Dark Mirror. For the time being, you'll be permitted to stay in this dormitory for free, but other necessities you will have to provide for yourself.”

‘Uhhh what? I don’t even have my own clothes. How the hell am I supposed to live with no money or ID?’

“Seeing as you have nothing to your name,” he gave a slight chuckle for reasons unknown, “here is my proposition.”

Your mind immediately jumped to all the horror stories you’ve heard of what comes from owing shady people favors. The growing panic must have shown on your face according to Crowley’s next words.

“No need to fret, I'll have you do maintenance and odd jobs around campus. From what I can see, you're pretty decent at cleaning,” he said after glancing around the room. “Would you two like to become the "handyman" of the school? This way you will receive special permission to remain on school grounds. You'll also be able to research going home or study whatever you desire in the library. For I am gracious. However! Only after your work is done.”

“Eeeh!? I'm not okay with that!” Grim complained. “I wanna wear that fancy uniform and be a student!”

“It's fine if you're unsatisifed. I'll simply toss you out again.”

“Ffgnnaa!? I get it! I just have to do it. Just do it!”

“’Kay.”

“Wonderful,” Crowley clapped his hands once in delight of our agreeance. “Then, you two starting tomorrow, endeavor to be the best handyman at Night Raven College!”

“Cool, now that that’s settled, headmaster,” he turned to face you. “I’m, like, about to pass out from pain. I’m covered in bruises and burns, plus my vision is blurry and I can’t focus on anything. My eyes are like a camera lens that twenty children smeared their greasy fingers on. You’re magical in that flashy, immediate results way, right? Doesn’t that mean you or someone else can help me not feel like I want to peel off my skin? It’d be cool for my skin to not burn when I get cleaning solution on it tomorrow.”

“Oh, uh, yes, of course,” Crowley almost seemed sheepish, as if he were embarrassed to have not truly noticed the state you were in until now. “While healing magic is not my forte, it should be enough to heal the wounds you have.”

He pointed his palmed towards you and you watched as it began to glow a pale yellow. Slowly you felt your burns and bruises dull themselves to just faint aches. He kept this up for about a minute before he extinguished his magic and pulled his hand back.

“Now, the worst of your wounds are still be a bit tender, but they should be completely healed after a good night’s rest. So, off you go then; sleep now so you’re ready for work in the morning,” He shooed you off with a hand gesture.

“Thank you, headmaster. C’mon Grim, let’s get going.”

As you and Grim headed up the stairs, the headmaster turned around and walked out of the building. Each step creaked under your weight as you trudged up them. While the pain was all but gone, your fatigue was still all-consuming. You followed Grim down the upper hallway, since it seemed he already picked a room before, probably when you went to find a bucket. You followed him into a room in a similar condition as the rest of the dorm. Across from the door sat a fireplace in the center of the opposite wall, a large mirror mounted above it. There were tall windows stationed on either side of the fireplace, almost as tall as the room itself. Towards the left side was a chair covered by a gray dust-cloth, and on the right sat a simple twin-sized bed. You pulled the duvet off the bed and shook it out, watching as you made a cloud of dust dance in the air. As soon as you placed the comforter back on the bed, Grim jumped up and curled himself up in the center of the bed. You were too tired to do anything about that; you’d just have too try and sleep around him. After shaking any dust off of your pillow, you slid yourself under the covers, one leg dangerously close to sliding off the bed. You fell asleep in record time that night.

.                                          .                                          .

             You had a rather rude awakening the next morning consisting of Grim yelling at you and pawing at your face because the ghosts were back. Streams of blazing blue fire almost singeing your face made this one of your worst morning experiences to date. With a final warning of there being a one-sided prank war, the ghosts phased away.

             “We’ll get rid of you eventually!” Grim shouted after them, but there was nothing but thin air left.

             “C’mon, bakeneko. Let’s go see if there’s any food in the kitchen,” You beckoned Grim with a small wave.

             “Hmph. Fine. But there better be tuna!” Grim said with a harrumph and trotted out the door ahead of you.

             As you went down the stair at the end of the hallway, you saw Crowley standing in the lounge room, waiting for you and Grim.

             “Good morning, you two,” he greeted when he noticed you. “Did you sleep well?”

             “I was sprawled out then fell out the bottom! Just how ramshackle did you let this place get?” Grim shouted, equally as upset about the state of the dorm as you were. “Then the ghosts woke me up, this is the worst!”

             “Like the dead,” was your response.

             “Even though you just got tossed from another world you can still be cheeky, wonderful!” Crowley was as upbeat as ever. “I came to speak to you about your work for today. Today you are to clean the campus, but campus is quite large. Cleaning it all without magic is impossible. So, I'd like you to clean Main Street to the main gate to the library, understood? Please watch Grim closely so he doesn't cause a scene like yesterday.”

             “I’ll try best,” you said and shrugged. You didn’t know what you’d do if Grim went out of control; you’re not fireproof, after all.

             “I'm counting on you. You have permission to have lunch in the school cafeteria. Take care of your work enthusiastically,” and with a flutter of his feathered cape, Crowley took his leave, presumably going back to campus.

“Tsk, no way I'm doing any cleaning,” Grim scrunched his nose at the thought. “I wanna go to class and, bang! Boom boom boom! Use a bunch of awesome spells!” He punched at the air with his ‘booms.’

“How ‘bout we just go to the library after we finish cleaning. Besides, libraries are where they keep all the old forbidden knowledge!” Yeah, under lock and key so no one can read them, but you weren’t about to tell Grim that. “Imagine just how much the other students will revere your power if you master ancient magic!”

“Well, what are you waiting for, human? Let’s get going!”

“Okay but let me collect my storm water first. If I wait too long, it’ll all evaporate.”

“Hmph, fine, but make it quick!”

You quickly jogged over to your bowls and jars that each held a good two inches/five centimeters worth of storm water. You poured all the water you collected into one of the jars before carrying everything back inside. You set them all down on the kitchen counter, then checked the cabinets for a lid to the jar. After finding a lid and sealing the storm water in the corresponding jar, you met back up with Grim in the lounge.

“Alright, let’s get moving.”

“About time,” Grim sauntered off, sass radiating from him with each step.

.                            .                            .

             The campus was bustling with life, students with hair every color of the rainbow going every which way. After a couple minutes of walking towards what you hoped was Main Street, the crowds began to thin out, students having made it to their respective classes. It wasn’t all that hard to find Main Street, seeing as it was the busiest and largest street on campus. What you weren’t expecting was the street to be lined with seven statues of iconic Disney villains.

             ‘I thought… I thought I was supposed to be on another planet or world or something? Why are there Disney Villains? Are you telling me that Walt Disney himself was able to expand his franchise across all of time and space?! And maybe across dimensions and alternate universes too?! Hey Walt? You’re taking it too far, man.’

“Uwaaaah~ Amazing. So, this is Main Street. I didn't get a good look yesterday but what's with these statues? All seven of them look pretty scary. This granny looks especially snobby,” Grim said, making a face at the Queen of Hearts.

“You mean the Queen of Hearts? Yeah, she played croquet with flamingos as the mallets and hedgehogs as the balls. While they were alive. Not cool if you ask me. Or most people. Animal cruelty is bad.”

“Ehh?! Why would this lady do that?” Grim looked appropriately confused.

“Who knows? Besides, the Cheshire cat is way better. A true chaotic neutral, that one.”

“Who’s that? And what does a cat have to do with this granny?”

You were about to answer before you were cut off by a new challenger approaching. “You don’t know about the Queen of Hearts?” They had a boyish appearance with short, messy orange hair and a red heart stamped over their left eye.

‘Actually, we were just about to discuss the Cheshire cat, but go ahead and assume, I guess.’

“You know her too? Is she important?” Grim asked the redhead, his attention easily being grabbed by this newcomer.

 “In the past, she was the queen who lived in the Rose Maze. She was someone who valued rules and discipline above all, strict in all things from the march of the Card Soldiers to the color of rose bushes. It was a land of madness where all submit to her rule. Why you ask? Because or else it was off with your head!” The heart-eye boy monologued with some dramatic flair.

“That's terrifying!” Grim shrieked, probably at the thought of someone chopping his head off.

“It's cool! I like it. Nobody would listen to a queen who's just nice all the time, right?”

‘Uhhhh, that queen is a tyrant, and tyrants are what lead to revolutions so… vive la révolution.’

“I suppose. A strong leader is better.” Oh, Grim, you sweet summer child who doesn’t know the difference between strength and fear.

“By the way, who are you?” Grim asked.

“I'm Ace, a fresh-faced first year. Nice to meetcha~” The boy, Ace, said with a musical lilt.

“I am Grim, a genius who'll become the greatest magician. The dimwit over here is (y/n). They're my henchmen.”

“Bakeneko, don’t you dare put me on the same level as a Scooby-Doo villain’s underling.” You glared at Grim who gave a sheepish chuckle in response.

“You've got an odd sounding name.”

“People from different places have different names. It’s called culture.” You said blandly, trying to cover up your growing anxiety.

Ace shrugged. “I guess. Just never heard your name before.”

“Hey, Ace,” Grim grabbed his attention; you could feel your shoulders sag in relief. “The lion over here with the scar, are they famous?”

Well, Ace seemed to have this handled, and you didn’t need to hear him summarize the Disney villains. Instead, you ignored him and went over to the statue of Hades and looked at him.

‘If this confirms that Hades also exists in this world, does that mean I can work with him? I know many witches back on Earth work with Greek deities, with Hades and Persephone usually being the best of them to work with. Hmm… I’ll have to do some more research.’

You then crouched down to read the stone plaque engraved in Hades’ pedestal. The large plaque read: “The lord of the underworld and guide to the wandering souls of the dead. He carried out his fearsome duties with diligence and care, m…ing even the de…t to offer their aid.” Some words had eroded away, becoming mostly unintelligible sans a few letters.* You tried to make out those two unknown words, tracing your fingers around the grooves in hopes that just maybe you’ll be able to figure out enough of the letters to piece the word together.

“No matter how long you stare at it, you’re not gonna get anything out of that, y’know,” Ace said from behind you.

You sighed and stood up, your momentary reprieve from your anxiety over. “Well, it doesn’t hurt to check.” The plaque didn’t have any information you didn’t already know, except for maybe the words you didn’t know.

“Anyway,” Ace cleared his throat, “He's the Lord of the Underworld! He rules a land crawling with evil spirit on his own. No doubt he is extremely skilled. Even though he's got a scary face, he did that detestable job without ever taking a vacation, and his sincerity won over Cerberus, the Hydra, even the Titans, to fight for him.”

“Hmmm, Hmmm. So having talent doesn't mean you get to be haughty.” Grim hummed in thought.

‘Oh, my sweet tiny bakeneko, you’re learning about manners; I’m so proud.’

“And the last one, with the horns?”

‘Oh hell yeah, Maleficent! We stan an absolute queen. Besides, who doesn’t love dragons?’

“That is the Witch of Thorns from the Magic Mountains,” Ace said, addressing Maleficent with a title rather than her name. “Noble and elegant, even within the Seven, she is top class in magic and curses! She can summon lightning and storms, cover an entire country in thorns; her magic is on a whole other level. There was even a time she transformed into a huge dragon!”

“Oooh! A dragon! All monsters look up to them!” Grim shouted excitedly.

“They're all so cool~” Ace spoke, almost dreamily, before his tone did a 180 and turned snide. “…Unlike a certain raccoon.”

“Pfft... Ahaha! I can't bear it anymore! Ahahahaha!” Ace broke out into laughter. “Aren't you the guys who went crazy at the entrance ceremony? You were summoned by the Dark Mirror even though you can't use magic, and you, a monster, weren't called but still trespassed. Yeahhh, it took everything I had not to lose it at the ceremony.”

“Whaaa!? You're a rude one!” Grim fumed, his ear fire growing in size.

             You just stood there and narrowed your gaze, your anger and anxiety fighting each other for full reign. Anxiety won out in the end, keeping you silent when met with his jabs.

“And now you aren't allowed in and got regulated to be a janitor? Haha, how lame,” Ace continued mocking the both of you.

             ‘It’s not like I had a choice in the matter…’ You clenched your jaw while Grim growled. You could feeling the anxiety bubbling in your stomach, beginning to rise.

“On top of that, you don't even know about the Great Seven,” Ace just didn’t know when to stop. “How ignorant can you be? As I recommend you go back to kindergarten before coming to Night Raven College.”

             Grim’s growls got louder as Ace continued. You, on the other hand, couldn’t bring yourself to speak and defend either of you. You felt your throat begin to close up.

“I thought I'd just mess with you a bit, but you really blew my expectations away. Unlike you two, I actually have classes to attend. Keep this school squeaky clean, you two~” He gave you a patronizing wave before turning on his heel and sauntering away.

“This jerk! He's just gonna say that and leave! I'm ticked off!” Grim opened his mouth wide.

“Wait, don’t—” You weren’t fast enough to stop Grim from using flamethrower, for a lack of better terms, on Ace.

“Oh! Watch out! What're you doing!?” Ace angrily yelled at Grim, having just barely dodged in time.

“It's what you get for making fun of me! I'm going light up that fire-head of yours!” Grim matched Ace’s volume.

“Fire-head, huh? Heeeeee. You've really got guts picking a fight with me. I'll turn you into a puffy, little toy-poodle!”

             Grim spewed more flames at Ace’s threat.

             ‘Nope, fuck this. Fuck this. I can’t breathe, dammit!’ You hid behind the nearest statue, which happened to be Maleficent, and kneeled on the ground, trying to steady yourself and calm down enough for your throat to reopen. You bent over to rest your head on the cool grass, closing your eyes and covering your ears, trying to block out the sources of your near attack. You focused on the feel of the grass against your forehead, feeling the separations between the different blades. They were still a bit damp from the morning dew. The more you distracted yourself from the thought of Ace: stressor of the century, the more your throat relaxed and allowed you to draw breath normally once more. You jumped when a shriek pierced through your ears, completely bypassing your hand barriers and reversing all the progress you made towards calming down. Worried that the shriek meant someone got hurt, you jumped out from behind the statue. Instead of someone being hurt, to your relief (you weren’t excited about being an accomplice to assault), the Queen of Hearts’ statue was blackened.

“Crap! The Queen of Hearts' statue is charred!” Ace yelled, the dread on his face matching the shriek you just heard from him.

             “It's because you're blowing the fire around! Just let me fry you!” Grim shouted back at him.

“You really think someone is just gonna let you fry them?”

“Enough!!! Just what is going on here!” The voice of Crowley boomed at the three of you, making you flinch.

‘…Fuck,’ looks like you’re not going to be able to avoid an anxiety attack after all.

             “Guh! Headmaster,” Ace went rigid.

“He's going to tie us up with the 'lash of love'!” Grim yelled. “Get outta here!”

             Though they tried to run, both were caught by Crowley’s whip, foiling their escape plans and making them both yelp in pain.

“Hurts just as much the second day in a row!” Grim whined.

“This is my Lash of Love!” Crowley was furious, and it seemed like he wasn’t going to calm down anytime soon. “It'll be another hundred years before you can outrun me! I told you just yesterday to 'not cause any trouble', didn't I? Then you go and char the statues of the Great Seven!” He directed his words at Grim before turning to Ace. “I very much would like to see you expelled.”

“Wait! Not that!”

“And you,” Crowley looked at you, making you freeze in place. “This is not how you supervise Grim.”

             You opened and closed your mouth like a fish out of water, unable to gather the breath to form a single word. How could you talk when you were struggling to even breathe?

“My goodness,” Crowley huffed in indignation before turning to Ace. “You, what's your grade and name?”

             “Ace Trappola, first year.”

“Then, Trappola, Grim, and (y/n), as punishment, I order the three of you to wash 100 windows around campus!”

“Nyaaa!? It's all cause this joker was making fun of us!” Grim protested, his fur standing on end to make him look bigger and more intimidating. It didn’t work.

“Eeeh!? Me too?” Ace looked at the headmaster in disbelief.

“Most definitely! After school, meet in the cafeteria. Understood?”

“Fiiine…”

“Nothing but misery since yesterday!” Grim complained.

Soon, both Crowley and Ace left, and you felt your body slump in relief, your knees buckling under you.

“Wha—hey, human! What’re you doing?” Grim ran up to you, genuinely confused.

You held up a finger to say ‘gimme a minute’ while you caught your breath. “Sorry…Grim…” you said after a minute, panting between words.

“Why are you out of breath? It’s not like you were running or anything.”

“This…this just happens… sometimes…” you shifted from kneeling to sitting cross-legged, leaning against the statue of Maleficent behind you. “I’m not very good with yelling… or with people, for that matter.”

“Hmmm,” Grim hummed in thought. “You humans are weird.”

You gave a soft chuckle at that, “that we are, Grim. That we are.” The two of you sat there in silence for a minute or two as your attack gradually faded away. “Hey Grim? I have a proposition for you.”

“Hah? What do you mean human?”

“What if we skipped lunch so we can make Ace suffer a bit?”

“Heee! Now you’re talkin’ my language!” Grim grinned widely, showing of his shark-like teeth.

      *That was all I could make out from the plaque you can see in the seven statues background image.

 A/N: Life’s been pretty shit recently hasn’t it.

[gingerpeachtae]

Concentric [18]

masterlist

Words: 4.3k

Genres: fantasy!AU, angst, fluff, enemies to lovers, eventual smut (?)

Warnings: n/a

Summary: You had been ready for the end of the semester. You had been ready to spend time away from your best friend, Jimin, and finally move on from the feelings you harbored. Yet, after your friend was forced to reveal a secret, you found yourself in a new world that was chock full of magic, war, and wonder. So, here you were, basically thrown into your own fantasy novel, with your best friend on one side, and six male warriors on the other.

A/N: Everyone say thank you to my momma’s moonshine for helping my writing juices flow lol. Pls engoy! 💙 

“And every single day you make me want you even more.”

His words echoed in your head. Overwhelmed every other thought. Consumed your mind.

Three hours later and you still couldn’t think of anything else.

Not when the boy who said those very words had his arms wrapped around you as he slept soundly. His front pressed against your back. His legs tangled with yours. His warm breath fanning across your neck and shoulder.

“And every single day you make me want you even more.”

You smiled softly to yourself as you recalled how shy he had gotten after confessing. How his cheeks had flushed, and his peridot eyes had widened. The way he had pulled back from you to stammer out a nervous apology as you stared at him in silent shock.

But before he could utter one more ‘oh my goddess, I’m so sorry sweetheart,’ you had grabbed his face in your hands and pressed your lips against his.

Gently. Slowly.

Until he had seemed to understand that you weren’t mad at him and he eagerly reciprocated.

“And every single day you make me want you even more.”

Raising your hand, you grazed your fingertips over your lips and let out a shaky exhale as you remembered how the kiss had turned much more urgent and passionate after that. Full of tongues and teeth and heady breaths.

Eventually, Jungkook had placed one final, prolonged kiss to your lips and, in a raspy voice that made you want to push him down and crawl on top of him, had told you that you both should get back to camp. He had even joked that his brothers might think he had murdered you if you didn’t show up soon. You had rolled your eyes and shoved him lightly for his comment while giggling. In response, he had caught your hand and leaned in to capture your swollen lips once more… but stopped halfway.

His eyes had flickered up from your mouth to meet your puzzled, lidded gaze and his shoulders had drooped slightly. He had begun pouting in the moonlight, muttering to himself about how he didn’t want to go but how he also didn’t want his brothers to show up and interrupt the two of you. While you bit your lip to keep from laughing at the cute burgundy head, he had groaned and reluctantly stood up from the cliff’s edge. Which meant you had involuntarily followed suit since your hand was still caught in his. Once you were on your feet again, his fingers had linked through yours and tightened their grip. Sending you a soft smile, he had tucked some of your hair behind your ear, causing a fluttering feeling to erupt in your heart.

Then, with stars twinkling above your head and tingles surging within your body, you had maneuvered yourself onto his back and crossed your arms over his chest. After verifying that you were good and bracing his hands underneath your thighs, he had stepped back into the trees. Trading the cliff’s edge and clear view of the moon for a seemingly endless maze of trees and shadows.

Both of you had stayed quiet throughout the walk back, simply enjoying the other’s presence instead of talking. Though, if you were being honest, you had had no idea what to say anyway. Part of you had thought you were dreaming, it all seemed too unreal. And if it was a dream, you didn’t want to wake up anytime soon, so you had just snuggled further into Jungkook’s warm body. Breathing in his intoxicating scent and feeling the strong, comforting beating of his heart beneath your palms as he continued to make his way back to camp without a sound.

By the time the dark outline of the temple appeared, the moon had risen high in the sky and most of the Saeni were already tucked in the for the night. As Jungkook walked over toward your sleeping mats, you saw three figures lounging by the still-burning fire. The flames and moon had both been just bright enough to allow you to make out that it was Yoongi, Hobi, and Jin. You had waved to the trio while Jungkook simply nodded his head in their direction. In the flickering firelight, you caught sight of Yoongi and Hobi smirking at you and although there was no way of them knowing what had just occurred between you and their brother you had still buried your face into Jungkook’s back, feeling embarrassed for some reason.

You had heard their chuckles at your reaction mix in with the clicking of bugs and whistling of wind as Jungkook finally made it to where your things were. The Saeni had lowered you down gently and once your feet were safely on the ground, he had turned around to face you and stepped closer so his chest was brushing against yours. In the low light of the night, you could just make out his features and you had wrapped your arms around his lean torso as you fought off a yawn that had suddenly attacked you. He had scrunched his nose and shook his head at you fondly before tugging you down to lay on top of your mats. Letting out a moan at the heavenly feeling, you had flopped around, trying to find a comfortable position as Jungkook just watched you with a smile. Your movements had caused Tae to stir, and the grey-haired Saeni shifted, murmuring your name and going to cuddle you as he usually did in his sleep. But just as he had placed one arm on your tummy, Jungkook had made a noise suspiciously reminiscent of a growl and threw his brother’s hand off. With a huff, he had brought you closer to him and folded your bodies together. The action had made your breath hitch and your heart to thud crazily as he secured you in his arms.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart. We’ll talk in the morning,” he had whispered in your ear.

Soon after, his breaths had evened out and you were left alone with a brain that wouldn’t shut off.

“Because of this.”

“You have no idea what you do to me.”

“You’re the most beautiful flower I’ve ever seen.”

“Every single day you make me want you even more.”

But… what did he mean by talk in the morning?

You sighed and peered up at the dark sky for what must have been the millionth time tonight. You tried everything to calm yourself down so you could get some sleep. Counting the stars. Focusing on the symphony of wind dancing through tree leaves. Timing your breaths to Jungkook’s slow, heavy ones. But nothing was working. You were too wound up.

“And every single day you make me want you even more.”

He said he wants me, but he didn’t say in what way…

He only said he was attracted to me… but that could mean that he still doesn’t actually like me the way I like him…

Fuck, you were tired. But you just couldn’t stop thinking.

About his lips, handsome face, or beautiful voice. Or his words that both elated you and left you in this confused, worried state.

Am I getting my hopes up for nothing?

You wished you could just flop onto your stomach and dig your head into the ground in frustration, but you couldn’t move much within Jungkook’s steel embrace. Your eyes darted around aimlessly, searching for something that could finally ease your mind and let sleep overtake you. Failing to find that magical thing, you released an annoyed exhale and wiggled and wormed until you managed to face the male holding you. With effort, you were able to free one of your arms from its muscle-y constraints and you lifted it until your hand was only mere inches away Jungkook’s face. The moonlight kissed his features, highlighting his cheekbone and making his earrings shimmer faintly.

Gently, you traced the extension of his elongated ear and followed the curve of his jaw with your fingertips. “You have no idea what you do to me either…”

As hundreds of draikensu marched through the night, Amarok watched them pass with a content expression. His wolves were prowling throughout the ranks, watching intently for anyone to step out of line. If they did, they would become the predators’ next meal.

Amarok crossed his arms over his chest. Although he had been furious to hear the key was still alive, he was delighted because it meant he would be the one to severe the lifeforce from the boy. And doing so would bring him immense pleasure. Soon, he would kill the key for his master and the driakensu would execute anyone who defied them as they took over Illain in Uzjuk’s name. Amarok’s lips twisted into a satisfied smile. The world would finally be in the state it was to meant to be in.

Chaos.

Uzjuk taught him the genuine nature of the world. How anarchy is the true way of things. Adjusting the straps of his weapons, he tightened them harshly as he recalled the snow, smoke, and pain. The blood, claws, and revenge. The cave, pups, and appearance of his master. The beginning of his awakening to the true order of the world. To the demanding truth of all that Uzjuk stood for.

As Amarok remembered the savagery of that winter, a frozen talon abruptly scraped against his mind, causing a chilling shiver to trail down his spine. Alerting him of his master’s arrival  The shadows caused by the moonlight expanded and pulsed, curling down towards the male and surrounding him as he closed his eyes and welcomed the wispy darkness.

“Master.”

“Why hasn’t the key been disposed of yet?” His master’s raw and hoarse voice echoed in Amarok’s mind.

The male sighed, knowing his master was not happy. “I shall deal with the boy myself. The magic tracker Eltoc placed on him when he first arrived back in Illain has not faded so we still know his location.”

“Well, deal with him quickly.” His master hissed impatiently. “And don’t disappoint me.”

Amarok raised a brow. “When have I?”

An all too familiar pain erupted in the male’s mind, gouging and searing. Though it was more agonizing than previous times. Hotter, deeper, more intense.

“Don’t get cheeky with me. Only a portion of my will may be able to invade this world, but my presence is growing stronger every day.”

The darkness swirled around Amarok wildly as the pain drilled further into his mind, making his vision blur. Gritting his teeth, the male endured the pain for one, two, three more seconds until his master released him.

As Amarok caught his breath, his master croaked out, “I tried latching onto the mind of one of the key’s companions again.”

“Were you successful?”

“No. I didn’t have enough time to work my way in before he was woken.” Uzjuk growled in annoyance.

“What a shame. That would have made things quite easy.” Amarok returned his gaze to the draikensu making their way past and sneered. “But this way will be more fun.”

Jungkook hovered over you, his hands placed at either side of your head he leaned down ever so slowly, teasing you. You arched upwards, aching to reach his body. To touch his lips. To have him ruin you.

He chuckled deeply, pleased to see you so desperate for him.

Ghosting his lips against your jawline, you mewled and tilted your chin to give him more access to your skin as he settled between your hips. He rocked against you lightly and attacked your neck with his sensual mouth, making you crave him even more. But suddenly he collapsed his body on top of you, the drop of his weight causing you to grunt and gasp for air. Then he began to poke your sides.

“Wake up, little scorja!”

Huh?

Jungkook wrapped his arms around you and snuggled into your form whilst still poking you.

What the fuc-

Your eyes popped open at a particularly hard jab, and you saw a tuft of grey hair underneath your chin instead of burgundy.

Tae.

“Little scorja it’s time to get up!” His voice was muffled by your chest.

You sighed and lifted a hand drowsily to pat his head. “Mmmmmorning TaeTae… now get off me, you’re heavy.”

And you ruined my good dream dammit. You pouted internally.

With a sulky expression, the male rolled off you and cuddled into your side. “Where did you and Kookie go last night? You were gone for a while…”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you coughed and looked up into the light blue, cloudy sky.

Shit, should I tell him? He’ll most definitely blab to his brothers, but if I don’t tell him, he’ll get so sad…

“Um, he told me that you all wanted to make me an honorary kiela member.” You paused briefly, taking a deep breath to brace yourself, before continuing. “And he, uh, alsomayhavekissedme… anyway, wow, what time is it? Let’s get something to eat!”

You went to get up, but has hand darted out and gripped your arm strongly, ensuring you weren’t going anywhere.

“He WHAT!?”

You peeked over at the male and saw that he had his head propped up with his free hand and his blue eyes were shining. His mouth, which was initially dropped open in surprise morphed to display his signature wide, boxy smile.

You couldn’t help but smile back at the endearing sight, but then you pursed your lips in uncertainty. “He… yeah, we kissed… but we haven’t talked about it yet, so don’t say anything, okay?”

He puffed out his cheeks with air as if he had to physically restrain himself from asking more, but after a few seconds he blew the air out and nodded. You gifted him a kiss on his cheek and pulled your backpack over to you so you could dig out your daily petals.

As you shivered from the assault of their magic, you tapped Tae’s shoulder. “Where is he anyway? We’re supposed to talk this morning.”

Whatever that means.

Tae’s blue eyes widened dramatically, and he quickly, but gently ushered you to stand as he informed you that Jungkook was with Yoongi getting something ready for the marking, the rest of the hyungs were waiting for you to arrive at the ceremony location, Mingi was watching Jiae, and Chungha was interrogating the draikensu prisoner.

“Oh, that poor bastard. Chungha’s probabl-wait. Did you say waiting at the ceremony location!? It’s today!?”

You blinked at Tae, who rapidly nodded. “Yup! I was in charge of bringing you and we’re going there now! Yoongi hyung said it would be better to do it sooner rather than later since it’ll help heal you.”

“I-now-what-hold on-Tae!”

But the Saeni already began dragging you into the trees. Though, in his excitement, he must’ve forgotten about your injured leg that still wasn’t completely healed because he was flat-out booking it. You did your best to keep up with him and not trip over every tree root you came across, but it wasn’t very elegant. Luckily, he didn’t take you very far into the forest, so you only had to aggressively penguin waddle for just a minute or so.

Through the greenery and shrubs up ahead, you saw the kiela, minus Yoongi and Jungkook, standing in a tiny, open space. As you and Tae broke through the trees, they all turned and smiled, though a certain apricot head hastily looked down at the ground after you met his gaze.

Jimin…

Your own smile faltered as you watched him avoid your eyes, but Hobi rushed over and tackled you into a hug before you could say anything.

“Hey there, little scorja. Kook told you what this is all for, right? I mean, you two were gone for a good while, so he had to have mentioned it. Unless, of course, you got preoccupied with other things…” He leaned back and winked at you, a teasing glint in his light brown eyes.

Your eyes widened and you felt like squeaking under his mischievous gaze, so you shoved him away fast, but he just laughed and took out a knife to fiddle with.

“He told me!” You said and crossed your arms defiantly.

Hobi began walking backwards away from you while waggling his brows. “Must have been quite the long and detailed explanation.”

He twirled his blade and used the hilt to scratch an itch on his silver-white head while pivoting on his heels and walking over to Jimin, not allowing you the opportunity to make a retort. While he lightly punched Jimin’s shoulder, Namjoon and Jin came over to greet you, both of them loudly exclaiming how excited they were to have you as part of the kiela. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Tae not so slyly skirt around you and jog over to Hobi and Jimin to whisper in their ears.

That little… for fuck’s sake, he really is the biggest gossip head I’ve ever met.

With a disappointed, yet not surprised type of sigh, you brought your eyes back to the two males before you and smiled sweetly as you told them how honored you felt as well as how thankful you were to have met and befriended them all. The three of you continued to talk while the clouds lazily floated by high above you until the two remaining members of the kiela finally showed up.

You saw Yoongi first, who just gave you a curt nod before making his way over to Tae, Jimin, and Hobi. The three Saeni grabbed his arm when he got close and yanked him into their little circle, no doubt spilling the new tea regarding you and Jungkook.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Speaking of the devil, you turned and saw him standing a few feet away from you, shifting back and forth on his feet as he rubbed the back of his neck.

“H-Hey,” you stammered out shyly, not really sure how you should act with him.

Should I be casual? How can I even be casual after last night? Should I ask him about it? Though this really doesn’t seem like the right time…

At your nervous response, his green eyes lit up and he sent you a cocky smile while dropping the hand from behind his neck and approaching you.

The morning sunlight gleamed off his burgundy hair, emphasizing the pink highlights. Though there wasn’t the usual metallic glint coming from his ears. Cocking your head to the side, you wondered where two of the earrings from his left side had gone.

“What happened to-”

“Alrighty,” Yoongi clapped his hands together, causing sparks of blue to flare up, and walked over to you. “Just in case our Kookie did a shit job explaining-”

“Hyung.” Jungkook whined.

“-I will graciously explain it as well.” Yoongi finished without even glancing at his youngest brother.

The magic user looked to you. “Since you have proven your skills on the battlefield, saved some of our sorry asses, become part of our tiny family, and other sappy shit I’m not going to say, we would like to make you an honorary member of the kiela. Do you accept?”

You blinked. That was… a very Yoongi way of putting things.

You felt Jungkook nudge you.

“Oh, uh, yes. I accept.”

Yoongi nodded and continued. “To induct you, Jungkook is sharing part of his draeva connection with you. The mark will be on the back of your neck. In addition to becoming connected to Illain and receiving heightened senses from the mark, I am also infusing it with the petal magic, so you won’t need to take them anymore.”

Well, that’s gonna be mighty convenient.

“So… what do I need to do?” You asked, not entirely sure how this whole magic connection thing actually worked.

Yoongi instructed you to just stand still and look directly into Jungkook’s eyes. They would take care of the rest.

That’s… easy. I can do that.

As Jungkook positioned himself in front of you, the kiela spread out into a semi-circle behind you. Yoongi stayed at your side and began cracking his knuckles and stretching his arms. After catching your glance, he shrugged and mumbled something about not wanting to get a cramp.

“You need to look at me for this to work.”

You returned your gaze to Jungkook, who had his arms crossed and you noticed his jaw tick once. Rolling your eyes, you stuck your tongue out at him, and the action made him blow out a puff of air. If you weren’t mistaken, he also tried to hide a tiny smile because he pressed his lips together firmly after expelling the air. But before you could comment on it, the wind suddenly picked up and sent some of your hair flying. And of course, a few strands got caught in your mouth. You went to push your hair out of your face, but Jungkook stepped closer and softly brushed the strands away for you. His peridot eyes lingered on your lips, and you swear you saw them dilate a bit as they flickered back up to yours. The world seemed to pause around you and all you could see was green. Green trees and green eyes. You wanted to get lost in it.

The sound of a clearing throat startled you back to reality and you felt your face grow warm for getting a little lost in Jungkook with everyone around you. You whispered an apology to Yoongi as Jungkook also cleared his throat and moved his hand under your hair, so his palm rested on the back of your neck.

It was utterly silent in the small clearing besides the sounds of your and Jungkook’s breathing and the natural sounds of the forest. Shadows danced across Jungkook’s face as the leaves swayed in the wind and you admired the way it made the green of his eyes appear even lighter as you stared into them.

Yoongi took a deep breath, and it hit you that you were actually about to do this, and you had no idea how it was going to affect you and holy shit what if it killed your ass?

Uh, death registration? It’s me… again. Don’t know if you’ve gotten my previous messages but here’s a new one.

“Wait wait wait!” You gasped out and Jungkook looked at you in concern. “Um, what if the mark harms me since I’m not Saeni? Since it’s not intended for humans? I’ve read The Mortal Instruments, you know, and I don’t want to become an unforsaken zombie thing!”

Jungkook pursed his lips as Yoongi rolled his pink eyes. Behind you, Tae softly asked what a zombie was and Jimin told him not to worry about it since it was ‘just another human thing.’

“Y/N, if that were the case, you would have been hurt the first time you took a petal back on Earth. It’ll be fine.”

“O-Okay.”

“Don’t be scared sweetheart.” Jungkook smiled at you and you let out a breath, feeling yourself relax, trusting him completely. “I got you.”

You took one more deep breath and nodded, signaling to Yoongi that you were ready. The magic user then placed his hand over Jungkook’s at your nape and began murmuring.

You continued gazing directly into peridot eyes as the back of your neck began to get warm…

Then hot…

Then scorching.

You started to pant as the heat drifted over your skin and sunk down into your body, making you wince in discomfort.

“You’re okay… I got you.” Jungkook whispered reassuringly, though his own voice sounded a little strained.

Then your vision darkened and darkened and darkened until the galaxy you see every time you taken the pink petal exploded behind your eyes. But it was much more vivid than it had ever been before. More bright. More alive. You could feel the universe moving beneath your fingertips as if it were a ripple in a pond. You could hear the stars scream, the moons sob, and the comets sing. Could see all the cosmos intertwine and separate from one another. Constantly mingling and parting. And then they crashed over you. You gasped at the cool feeling, reminiscent of an ocean wave. Slowly, it transformed into a heavy, warm, and comforting blanket. It draped over you. Enwrapped your entire being. You smelled your favorite homecooked meal. Tasted the sweetest fruit on your tongue. Heard the tinkering of rain and the sound of masculine laughter. Felt the euphoria of being content with yourself and being held in someone’s arms.

The heat in your body travelled until it was all collected at your nape. Then, as it began to fade, so did the galaxy and comforting feelings. It all dimmed and dimmed and dimmed until your vision cleared.

But it was different.

More vivid. More bright. More alive.

Everything was sharper. Your sight, hearing, smell, touch. You blinked slowly, trying to process all these new sensations.

You inhaled and through the sweet air and dewiness of the morning, you could easily make out the scent of florets and steel as well as an unfamiliar but familiar combination of ashes and smoke that reminded you of a certain magic user.

The sunlight was even more radiant and as you gazed into Jungkook’s peridot eyes, you could see flecks of gold you hadn’t noticed before.

You could hear him swallow dryly through his labored breathing as he returned your stare.

Could feel his heartbeat through his fingertips at the back of your neck.

And if you focused beyond all of that, you could still faintly feel the expanse of the universe, as if its energy was thrumming through you.

In a way, you guess it was. You were now connected to it all.

To the universe.

To Illain.

To Jungkook. 

And you never wanted it to fade away.

previous [17] — next [19]

taglist: @cookied-dreams @apurpledheart @james-herondale023 @lorengarcia-yut @kittycuptea @toddsgirl27 @a-feeling-of-euphoria @treatpeoplewithkindnesshoe @kthdior @taigaajin​ @lylanie12​ @kassandravictoria​

[notcanoncompliant]

A Coast That’s Unclear

Chapter Links:  Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4 

on Ao3 // Explicit, 18+ // TW: dubious consent (not in this chapter, and not between Tony & Peter) Pairings: WinterIronSpider

DISCLAIMER:

The 'Underage' warning is for a brief scene while Peter is 17, which is the legal age in NY. The rest of the explicit action happens after Peter is 18. It is going to get explicit. There is Daddy kink. Heed the tags, please. If you have an issue with it, don't read this fic. Don't bother with ship-shaming, I will delete your comments.

If y'all are good with this, keep going, and I hope you enjoy <3

____________________________________________

CHAPTER 1: Just Typhoons and Monsoons (Intro)

Peter has always been ahead of his age group.

He's intelligent, gifted at science in general, but especially robotics.

At 14, his first year at Midtown High, he's awarded entry into an elite junior robotics club, sponsored by Tony Stark. 

In his sophomore year, Mr. Stark offers Peter a spot in the high school internship program onsite at Stark Industries.

*

The February after he turns 15, a couple months after he starts working directly with Tony at the internship, Peter's aunt and uncle die in a carjacking incident while waiting to pick Peter up.

There's no other family to take Peter.

Tony can't let him end up in foster care.

He hands the company over to Pepper and becomes Peter's legal guardian.

Tony's not good at feelings.

Peter is a depressed teenager (not good at feelings but has a lot of them).

Peter's depression drives a wedge between the two for a few months.

They fall into a pattern of nagging at each other's bad habits (they basically eat and sleep in quantities/frequencies in complete opposite of each other).

Their mutual concern leads to them dragging each other in towards a healthy middle.

(They compromise:

"I'll only sleep for 8 hours if you actually get 8 hours of sleep, you ass", etc)

They spend most of their time together, and halfway through Peter's 16th year, the kid's looking healthier and smiling more.

*

Peter goes to school and hangs out with his friends.

He swims in Tony's pool and works out in Tony's gym a couple days a week.

He still affectionately nags Tony about his habits.

They joke around with each other and share almost every meal.

They watch movies on the penthouse couch.

Sometimes, they fall asleep together.

Most of the time, it's Peter who falls asleep on Tony (head on the man's shoulder at first, and then on his lap, and eventually stretched out on top of him, head on his chest).

Sometimes, after an inventing binge or a rough conversation with Howard and Maria, it's Tony who falls asleep on Peter.

*

For the six months before Peter turns 17, Tony refuses to spoon him.

It could be so easily transformed into something sexual, and Tony doesn't want to put Peter or himself in a bad position.

Tony's worried he might feel the urge to push Peter into something he's not ready for, or that Peter might agree to something because he feels obligated or driven by hormones.

Peter just wants Tony wrapped around him, because Peter's a teenage boy with a giant crush on his older, very hot guardian.

They argue about it for the three months leading up to Peter's seventeenth birthday.

Three weeks before homecoming (three weeks before his birthday), Peter practically begs Tony, says he's fine, he's ready, he wants Tony closer...

...and Tony firmly disagrees.

They fight, and--feeling hurt and embarrassed by the rejection--Peter pulls away.

For a couple of days, they barely speak.

Peter starts asking to stay out after school.

He tells Tony he's hanging out with some friends.

Tony doesn't question it.

He trusts Peter, and...

...and he hopes that maybe Peter will give up the crush on his own, so Tony doesn't have to end it himself.

Two weeks before the dance, Peter asks if Tony will loan him money for his and his date's homecoming tickets.

His date.

His date.

His date.

Tony loans the money immediately and without question.

He shoves the mourning to the back of his mind.

He labels it 'inappropriate', where it is kept company by his fantasies of spooning with Peter.

The night of homecoming, Peter tries to kiss Tony.

Tony stops him.

Peter, hurt and rejected and angry, yells at him:

"If I can't do it with the person I love, what does it matter?

I might as well just sleep with whoever, right?

Maybe if I fuck around, I'll be experienced enough for you!"

Peter goes to the dance.

Tony panics.

Peter loves him.

Peter might go fuck strangers.

Fuck.

Tony's stuck between staying home and letting the chips fall...

...and driving to the school to bring Peter back to the penthouse and Tony's massive bed.

His biggest fear of being with Peter is that he would take Peter's life away.

Peter wouldn't get those first messy fumbles in back seats and under bleachers, with people just as nervous and unskilled as he is.

He wouldn't get to experience those awkward learning moments and memorable dating milestones that Tony had always heard were so important to Growing Up.

Tony didn't get those things.

He had the brains, but for love, he had Howard and Maria Stark: rich and powerful and distant.

He had MIT at 16, and older people who were attracted to him, but didn't give a single real fuck about him or his mental health.

Peter...

Peter is miles ahead of his peers, intellectually.

But he got to have Aunt May and Uncle Ben.

Peter was loved, treated with respect and caring.

He was raised so well that when he went through intense loss, he was able to come out the other side while helping Tony crawl out of his own hole.

He's snarky and intelligent and brave.

Peter was--is--amazing, and Tony loves him.

Tony loves Peter.

God help him, but he does.

Tony doesn't go to the school.

He falls asleep on the couch, watching a movie.

He imagines how it would feel to have Peter's back pressed against his chest.

Close to midnight, Tony wakes up.

He comes online as his arm is lifted and Peter curls up into his side, still wearing the suit he wore to the dance.

"Hey, kid," Tony whispers into the dark.

Peter clings tighter, his fingers twisting harder into Tony's shirt.

Tony wraps his arms around the teen, presses a long kiss to the top of Peter's head.

"I'm so sorry, Pete."

The kid cries into Tony's shirt, and Tony lets him; lets Peter sob himself hoarse and pass out on Tony's chest, Tony rubbing the boy's back and whispering apologies and sweet nothings in a midnight gravel voice.

The next morning, Peter wakes up, showers and brushes his teeth first.

Tony wakes up to the sound of water running and the scent of Peter's apple shampoo filling up the suite.

When Tony's done showering, he finds a fresh pot of coffee and Peter at the kitchen island, drinking tea.

It's 10:30 a.m. on a beautiful morning.

They kiss for the first time.

Tony makes breakfast.

*

A month later, Pepper tells Tony that a man lost his arm at a Stark Industries construction site in New York City, because of another laborer who was drunk on site.

Tony tells Pepper to take care of any and all expenses related to the loss, and requests the man's medical history and physical stats.

He asks that she set up consultations with leading experts in prosthetic technology.

A week later, Tony begins the biggest project he's taken on in a long time.

He's going to make James Buchanan Barnes a new arm.

*

Peter gives him room.

He supports Tony in any way he can, even if it's just to make Tony take breaks or sit down for a meal during long work binges.

Tony falls a little more in love with him.

*

Tony may be miles ahead, but Peter is a trip.

Peter's enthusiasm is infectious, his curiosity a force to be reckoned with; he keeps Tony on his toes.

Physically, they take it glacially slow.

Tony does his best to make sure Peter knows it's not rejection, but out of concern and care.

One of their most difficult conversations is the acknowledgement of Tony's lingering discomfort about the age difference, and his guilt that it hasn't stopped him from getting so close to Peter.

Peter does his best to respect the lines Tony draws in the sand for those first few months.

(But Peter is seventeen and constantly on...

...and Tony's not a saint.

There are many nights where Peter lays back between Tony's legs, his back to Tony's chest and his hand gripping his own cock, Tony doing nothing but trailing fingers up and down Peter's bare thighs, whispering encouragement and compliments and instructions into Peter's ear until he makes himself cum.

With intelligence, curiosity, and a loving partner, comes the beginning of kink exploration.)

*

On Peter's graduation night, he comes home early from the class party.

He and Tony make love for the first time.

Tony's careful, and Peter's happy (so happy), and their nerves are wiped away with quiet laughter and kisses and whispered words of love.

It's perfect.

*

A week later, the first ever StarkTech prosthetic arm is completed.

The pair celebrates with dinner in the penthouse.

They've only half-finished their food when Tony spreads Peter out on the dining room table.

*

Six months later, two months after Peter calls Tony "Daddy" in bed for the first time, and two weeks after Peter's 18th birthday, a Stark Industry employee leaks a photo to the press:

It's a grainy--but clear enough--shot of Tony pulling Peter into a chaste kiss in one of the labs.

Tony and Peter are in Seattle when the news breaks.

Two days later--after hours and hours of debriefing, legal counsel, and prep--Tony and Peter attend a small press conference in Seattle.

They tell select members of the news media that Tony Stark is in a romantic relationship with Peter Parker, the 18 year old that had been the 15 year old of whom Tony had legal guardianship.

They leave the conference to climb into a waiting car and take off towards the coast.

The media explodes.

*

They take turns driving down the scenic western coastline.

Their notoriety forces them to only stop in secluded areas and virtually unknown towns to avoid paparazzi.

It makes for a much more interesting road trip.

Four days after the scandal goes live, Peter and Tony pull up to their destination, the address for which Pepper Potts had provided:

A little AirBnB in northern California, in a town called Harvest Moon.

***

Bucky gets engaged to Steve because he doesn't know what else to do.

*

In childhood, they're inseparable, running around like hooligans, Steve getting into fights and Bucky getting him out.

Bucky adores the scrappy kid, admires Steve's conviction and bravery in the face of insane odds.

When they reach their formative teenage years, Bucky easily acknowledges his crush on his best friend.

(It's much easier than acknowledging how often he still has to clean up a lot of Steve's messes.)

*

They start dating at the end of senior year, the day after prom.

It's sealed by an emotional argument that leads to a confession of feelings and awkward, intense sex in the back seat of Steve's beat up Ford.

Steve isn't out, but Bucky's patient; endlessly so.

Steve doesn't tell his family about his and Bucky's relationship.

Bucky's just happy he's with the punk he's been following his whole life.

*

A year and a half later, Steve cheats on Bucky with Peggy Carter.

Bucky is 19.

*

Steve moves to California for a degree in art and web design.

Bucky stays in New York, splitting his time between construction and helping run his ma's diner.

*

Two years later, Steve starts writing him letters; one a month.

Six months after that, Bucky starts writing back.

Steve apologizes.

Bucky forgives him.

*

For nine years, Bucky lives.

He works, becomes closer to his family--blood and construction crew.

He's the best man at a couple weddings, and he dates around--guys and gals, nothing lasting longer than six months.

Steve writes him every month, like clockwork, and visits New York every so often.

The visits all end the same way:

with a plea for Bucky to move to California that Bucky always declines.

*

The crew Bucky's contracted with gets hired to work on a Stark Industries project.

One of the members is newer, a cousin of one of the lifers.

They give him a chance because...family.

They don't know about the guy's drinking problem.

The guy doesn't think they'll notice if he nips at a flask onsite, or if he slips off to his car to take swigs out of a bottle.

Unfortunately, he's correct.

Bucky's nearby when the drunk worker stumbles into a badly-supported beam, and part of the structure comes down.

*

The alcoholic ends his day in the drunk tank, with a court date pending, and no job.

Bucky ends his in the hospital, without his left arm.

*

Stark Industries agrees to pay all of Bucky's medical bills and any other expenses incurred relating to the loss of his arm.

Bucky quits construction.

Steve comes to New York, stays until doctors declare Bucky ready to leave the hospital.

Again, he asks Bucky to move to California, and slips a ring on Bucky's right ring finger.

Bucky says yes, as long as they can wait a bit to say 'I do'.

*

Six months later, at his and Steve's little two story in the middle of nowhere, he opens the front door to see the CEO of Stark Industries, Pepper Potts.

She's professional and warm, and the most efficient person Bucky's ever met.

Pepper tells him that Mr. Stark has finally approved a design for a StarkTech prosthetic, an arm that will function as well as--or better than--his original, and at no cost to Bucky, including the surgery to link the arm directly to Bucky's nervous system.

She passes along apologies from Tony Stark himself, for both the accident and the length of time it took him to reach out to Bucky with this incomparable gift.

Bucky signs the NDA, but he isn't asked to sign a waiver of liability.

When he asks, Ms. Potts smiles the smile of an overworked assistant to an eccentric genius billionaire.

*

A month later, a group of Stark Industries appointed surgeons and scientists, the best in the world, stands around him as he is put under anesthesia.

Bucky wakes up groggy, and with a new arm.

The arm works like a dream.

*

Post-surgical observation lasts two weeks.

On the last day, he signs the discharge forms and Ms. Potts offers congratulations, from herself and Mr. Stark.

She hugs Bucky.

Bucky goes home.

*

Steve seems like he's trying to be supportive.

He's clearly happy for Bucky, but he tells him he's worried that Bucky will want to go back to New York, back into construction.

Bucky assures him that construction is not a part of his life anymore, and he wouldn't just end the engagement because he's got his arm back.

They argue.

Steve is upset at the thought of Bucky leaving him.

He's angry that Bucky isn't asking for more from Stark Industries, while simultaneously being pissed that Stark Industries has something to hang over Bucky's head.

(Bucky decides not to tell Steve about the omitted liability waiver.)

Bucky realizes that part of his own anger is coming from guilt.

Even though he hadn't lied about being done with construction...

...he had thought about leaving.

*

He doesn't.

He shares Steve's bed, and takes care of the things that Steve doesn't:

fixing things, housework, cooking.

When Steve says he wants to offer their guest room up for rent or as an AirBnB listing, Bucky takes that up, too.

He doesn't mind the work; it reminds him a little of helping out at the diner.

The routine gives him something to wake up for, something to take pride in.

*

Steve may have suggested it, but the AirBnB project is Bucky's baby.

They're not insanely busy; they give the space out for a maximum of three nights, and Bucky vets the potential guests so they don't get any questionable people under their roof.

They mostly have one or two-night stays, and only once a week, but it more than supplements Steve's income, enough that Bucky doesn't have to get outside work.

Bucky lets the work fulfill him and distract him from his empty relationship with Steve.

*

Five months after Bucky comes home from surgery, Steve rants as Bucky holds Steve's laptop.

The article on the screen details Stark Industries' latest and greatest scandal:

The owner of Stark Industries has been sleeping with his adopted teenage son.

There are articles everywhere, examining every possible angle.

Bucky reads only from the reputable sources.

He's relieved to read that Peter is 18 years old.

He sees the picture that was leaked--a sneak shot of a gentle, smiling kiss--and the photo taken during the press conference where the pair had publicly announced the relationship.

They look nice together.

*

Steve rants.

Bucky wonders if Peter Parker is okay.

*

Bucky considers reaching out to Pepper Potts, but in the end, he doesn't need to.

Three days after the relationship goes public, Ms. Potts calls Bucky to tell him that Tony and Peter are on their way, and offers to pay for at least a month-long stay.

After the call, Bucky gets on the AirBnB listing and books out the month under his sister's name.

Four days after the scandal breaks, Tony Stark and Peter Parker show up on his doorstep.

***

Chapter Links:  Ch. 2 // Ch. 3 // Ch. 4

[waitingformessages]

The RFA finds out that MC has decided not to attend the party and wants to leave the RFA (and them).

Before you read - I like to use references to the games in my writing, so SPOILER warnings, especially as this, is referencing the end of the game for each route. (Based on the Good Endings but with an obvious twist). I prefer to use the name `Seven’ instead of `Saeyoung’ unless he is being spoken to in his section. I hope that isn’t too confusing. I try my best to keep the characters in character, but I’m new to this, so I’m sorry if anything seems OOC. I take the nicknames the characters call you from the MC page of the wiki. Apologises as these are quite long, and Seven plays a semi-important role in each section(He goes into overly-protective friend mode which I love.) (expect in Jumin’s)

As Seven’s Ending does not involve the couple going to the RFA party, I have decided to make an alternative scenario for him:-

Seven’s reaction to MC who has decided to return to attend the party instead of helping him with the hacker (MC also leaves Seven)

I hope you enjoy reading, and any feedback is appreciated. 

~

Jumin - The day was finally here, you turn in the bed and look up at the dress you had hung up when you returned to Rika’s apartment the night before. The dress was gorgeous, and the colour was sure to compliment you, just as Jumin had hoped. He had a team of designers to ensure that the dress was going to be perfect for you. You pulled yourself up from the bed and walked towards the dress. You knew that it was to be matching to Jumin’s suit, the main reason he had got the designer team to work on it, instead of allowing you to wear one of your own dresses. Your chest tightens at the thought of walking into the party and being noticed instantly as a part of a couple. You have just had a few hours to yourself, and you are not emotionally capable of dealing with the Jumin’s possessiveness and obsession of you, again. You could feel your head spinning, and a notification from your phone brings you back to your senses. A chatroom had opened, and everyone was there, chatting about how excited they were about the party. Your chest tightens again from the words Jumin was saying to you, you couldn’t understand why you were feeling this way. You thought you had feelings for him, but now your mind was rethinking your relationship with him. You continue to act excited along with the other members, but you felt uneasy when Jumin spoke directly to you. You quickly say goodbye and exit the chatroom, you take deep breaths of air to try to calm yourself down. You glance at the dress once more then make a decision. ; Jumin spoke with V and Seven about his plan to expose the Choi sisters, and his love for you. His constant glances towards the doorway of the party venue were obvious to the duo he was speaking with. Seven followed Jumin’s eyes and noticed Jaehee, with a clipboard with the guest list, he turns to Jumin “I’ll go check with Jaehee if (Y/N) has arrived yet, she might have snuck in.” Jumin gives Seven a nod before discussing with V his recent photographs. Jaehee flicks through the list looking for your name, after Seven’s request to do so. “I’m sorry, Luciel. She hasn’t arrived yet.” Seven glanced over at his shoulder, to see Jumin distracted by V, he slid his phone out of his pocket and looked at Jaehee. “I’m just going to check that she is ok, I don’t know how long that bossy woman will last, and Jumin’s plan really needs (Y/N) to work.” Seven gestures towards Glam Choi who was fixing Sarah’s hair, as he puts his phone to his ear. The phone rings out and reaches your voicemail, Seven tuts. “Is she not here yet?” Jumin had snuck behind Jaehee and Seven, his voice was different than his usual tone, hints of worry and hurt coming through as he spoke. The party was now chaos, as Jumin ordered Jaehee to try to contact you through the chatroom, Seven to track you to see what has happened and for ZEN and Yoosung to take turns in calling you. Jumin paced the area, trying to avoid eye contact with his father or his unwanted soon to be in-laws. V places a hand on Jumin’s shoulder which sets him off, yelling in a hushed voice that it’s V fault, and that you could have been taken by the hacker, that he should have not let you leave. Jumin tried to calm himself, to keep a respected reputation in front of the numerous paparazzi he had invited. ; You could hear your phone buzzing nonstop and you were getting sick of it, the notifications of someone in a chatroom desperately trying to get your attention and someone else calling you nonstop. You groan and decide to pick your phone, Yoosung’s name popped up “What is it, Yoosung?” A gasp could be heard down the phone “WHERE ARE YOU, WE ARE SO WORRIED. WE THOUGHT THE HACKER GOT YOU! JUMIN IS FREAKING OUT!” yelled the youngest member. You knew this was going to happen, Jumin would freak out about your lack of presence at the party, you couldn’t think of a response. What were you going to say? You have actually decided that the RFA is not for you? That you have fallen out of love with Jumin? It would be too much to expect Yoosung to explain to your ex-lover. You could hear a commotion from the phone, and another voice took over “My Love? Where are you, are you ok?” Your heart sinks as you hear the man you have spent the last couple days with, start talking. You feel awful that you couldn’t stay in love with him, you could tell how much he cared for you. “I’m so sorry…” you whisper into the phone, “I can’t do this anymore Jumin, I’m sorry, but I’m not coming. I want to leave the RFA, please let the others know.” You say before hanging up, not wanting to hear his response. You pull your legs to your chest and cry about the end of your short relationship with Jumin and the short time you had with the RFA.; Jumin keeps the phone to his ear, hearing the dial tone ring out, he was unsure what to do or say. The other RFA members were now looking at him, expecting him to say that you were running late or something. Jumin tries to speak, but no words could come out, he could feel a pain in his chest. Why was this happening, why did you say those things? “Hey, Trust-Fund Kid, tell us! Is everything ok?” Jumin swallowed hard, feeling his throat dry, “She’s not coming.” The members start to panic, asking if you were ok, were you sick, were you hurt? Jumin had grabbed a drink from a nearby waiter and finished it in one go. “She has quit, she decides that we… I am not enough for her anymore.” The RFA’s faces all drop in disbelief. “Ha, ha this must be another one of your jokes that no one understands right?” asks Seven, hoping that it was. “Unfortunately, that is not the case.” explains Jumin, he catches the eye of his father from the crowd of guests. “If you excuse me, I would like to return home. Assistant Kang, please apologise to my father, his guests and the paparazzi. I have suddenly become unavailable to stay at the party.” Jumin turns and leaves the venue without another word, heartbroken at your confession. 

Seven - You glance out the car window as Seven drives towards a quiet area, to stop. He told you in passing that you needed to stop so that he could try to contact the agency and Vanderwood to ensure they knew they had the wrong twin and that his brother would be safe. The drive was silent, and you were alone with your thoughts, you were thinking about the party and how you were desperate to not miss it. You had spent a long time, emailing all the guests, chatting with the other members, you had even picked out your outfit! But now you were in a car driving further and further away from the party’s venue. You sigh loudly as you think about all that you will miss. The sigh gains the attention from Seven, he leans over to squeeze your hand, which makes you jump. You smile weakly then glance at your lap, where your phone was laying. Your phone had lit up, highlighting a notification, a quick unlock of the phone shows that a chat room has opened up and the other RFA members were talking. You hesitated to join as you knew they would be eagerly discussing the party, the one you could not attend. “Don’t worry” you hear from a voice beside you, “If you enter it, they won’t know you are there. I had to disable some things on your app and phone. To make sure no one can track us.” You shrug your shoulders, what else were you expecting from him? You open the messenger, and as you expected, they were discussing the party. You felt uneasy as you were able to spy on their conversation and that none of them could acknowledge your presence. You had shaken off Seven’s hand to move your phone closer to your face. He seemed confused by your action but didn’t say anything about it. You look at him at the corner of your eye as you pretend to read the chatroom. He seems so different, Seven in the chatroom was so bubbly and talkative, and now he is serious and silent, it’s weird and not in a good way. The last member leaves the chatroom, and you quickly leave as well. You lay the phone back onto your lap and throw your head back into the seat, closing your eyes. “Angel, are you ok?” you hear your `boyfriend’ ask. You nod, keeping your eyes closed, you imagined yourself at the party. Greeting all the guests and talking away to the other members, you have been desperate to meet for the last eleven days. However, the red-haired boy was not in your fantasy, you were by yourself, enjoying the party. You smile at your thoughts, you imagine yourself chatting about video games with Yoosung, musicals with Jaehee and ZEN, and Elizabeth with Jumin. You try to imagine the person next to you, at your make do party as well but it was useless, you just couldn’t picture him there. The car suddenly stops, waking you from your dream, you look over to Seven who had his head on the car wheel. “I… I better try to contact the agency. I hope they haven’t done anything to Saeran.” he mumbled, you try not to groan at the situation. You really did not want to be chasing after his long lost brother, the drama of the whole thing was too much for you. You give a faint smile to Seven as he turns to face you, obviously bothered by your silence. “Are you sure you are ok? Did something in the chatroom upset you?” He asked worriedly. Were you going to confess to him? That you want to go to the party? That you didn’t really care about reuniting his family, that you were having a hard time talking to him without regretting your choices? You shake your head, he sighs and leans over to kiss your cheek. “I won’t be long, please stay inside. I can’t let you hear the conversation, classified, you know?” he smiles at you. You reply to his `joke’ with a half-assed laugh, which you could feel him looking through. Seven picks up a bag containing a laptop and exits the car. You lay back and wiped your cheek, you look through the window at him. You fell for the Seven in the chatrooms, the one who made jokes and liked to prank everyone. The person standing outside the car was not the same man. You look at your phone, you knew everyone else was preparing for the party so would be unavailable to talk to. Still, you try anyways, the last member’s voicemail hits your ear as the car door opens. The phone is quickly turned off, and you look at Seven as he sits down. “Well, it’s done. I’ve warned the agency that they don’t have me and if they don’t be careful with him, I’ll expose their secrets.” You stare at him, you had to tell him. You just had to explain where your mind is at. “Saeyoung…” He quickly turns and smiles at you “I love it when I hear you same my real name.” Crap, you look at the floor. The courage you once had was fading. “Um… I was just wondering, what do you think is happening at the party?” You could hear him shuffle about and play around with the radio. “A broadcast should be playing about the party any time now.” You stare at the radio, and you could feel yourself start to cry. You quickly try to wipe your tears away. “Oh, no. What’s wrong?” Seven asks before placing his hand on your back and rubbing it, in a way to comfort you. You start mumbling nonsense to him about how much you want to be there and that you don’t want to be here in the car with him, and that you don’t have feelings for this `version’ of him. You mumbled in an attempt to make your words unrecognisable to him to hear. But as the hand stopped rubbing your back, you could tell he could understand what you said. You squeezed your eyes shut, awaiting a response. You could hear the car starting up and the car speeding away. The two of you sat in silence during the drive, you open your eyes and notice that you were entering the city again. “What… why are we here, Saeyoung?” you asked confused that you were not in the mountains anymore. Seven sighs “You said you didn’t want to help me, remember? You want to attend the party. The least I could do is drive you there.” You turn to him, as the car stops, seeing that he had tears running down his face. “I’m sorry, that this is how it ends.” you say before opening the car door. Seven nods in response. He quickly leaves as soon as he sees you run into the party venue. The radio announcing Jumin’s speech “...they gathered the courage to go after the truth, Saeyoung Choi and….” Seven quickly turned off the radio, wiping away his tears as he drove back to where he could find his brother.

Jaehee - You look at yourself in the mirror once before, playing with your hair thinking what to do with it. Your mind races to the night before, the argument between Jumin and Jaehee got to you. You remember that V, Seven and ZEN were worried as well, something about the hacker, which made your nerves heighten. Your head lay against the mirror, desperate for your mind to be at ease. The whole situation with the RFA was getting too much, you had to have time to yourself, time to deal with your issues. You tried to be there for Jaehee, you knew that she was stressed from work Jumin was putting her through, but you were hoping that she would be there for you as well. You could hear your phone notify you of a chatroom, a sigh escapes your lips as you go towards your phone to attend the chatroom. Yoosung and ZEN start chatting with you about how excited they were about the party and the drama that occurred the night before. You try to reassure the members that everything was ok, your heart drops when Seven jokes about Jaehee, now being unemployed. You couldn’t believe that this happened that you had encouraged it. You act excited and quickly leave the messenger, your head spinning even more. You just need a couple minutes, hours, days even to reflect on your actions, to take a breather and focus on yourself. Your outfit hangs at the wardrobe in front of you, haunting you of the event to come. You stand and remove the outfit from its place. ; Yoosung looked around the room, trying to find a name tag that had your name on it, he came up blank and approached ZEN in the hope that he has seen you. “Hyung, have you seen (Y/N) yet?” ZEN shook his head to Yoosung’s disappointment. Yoosung had seen Jaehee earlier who had mentioned how excited she was to meet you, this was going to crush her. The duo decided to split up and try to find you once more before notifying Jaehee about your lack of presence. They had bumped into Jumin during their search, who also was determined to meet you. The members start to panic, hoping that you were safe. ; You sigh as you move the last of your items into a bag, you were prepared to leave Rika’s apartment, return to your home and put this whole thing behind you. Yes, you were going to miss the RFA and your new friendships with them, especially Jaehee, but you couldn’t handle taking on their stressful worries. It was negatively affecting you, and you needed to be selfish. You could feel your phone buzz in your pocket, you had changed the app settings to vibrate, so the noise of notifications did not distract you or change your mind. You contemplate if you should answer the phone or not, you could feel your face become wet from tears. You pulled the phone out and answered. ; Jaehee frantically looked around the hall, ignoring the other member’s telling her that you haven’t arrived yet. She spots Seven chatting to a small group of guests and bolts towards him, if anyone could find where you were, it would be him. “Luciel!” she hissed in his ear, gaining his attention. “Jaehee! Let me introduce you to…” Seven says ready to gesture to the people in front of him “I apologise, but I need to speak to you urgently. In private!” Jaehee says, pulling at his arm away from the noisy party scene. Seven smiles at her, ready to make a joke at her eagerness to get him alone, but stops as he looks at the worried expression on her face. “What’s wrong, Jaehee?” he places a hand on her shoulder in an attempt to comfort her. Jaehee sighs before explaining that you haven’t arrived yet and it’s been at least two hours since the party has started. Seven rubbed Jaehee’s shoulder as he pulled his phone out of his pocket so that he could track where you were. “I’m on it, don’t worry. I’ll find her. It might take a while, so go out and mingle.” He gestures with his phone towards the crowded hall containing the guests and RFA members. “Look, I can see ZEN talking to Jumin. You might need to save him, we don’t want any drama.” Jaehee faintly nodded and walked into the hall, leaving Seven to try to find your location. ; “Hi Seven, what’s up?” you ask, after seeing his picture appear on your phone. “Care to explain why you are still at Rika’s apartment and not here at the party?” His voice was serious, which brought chills down your spine. “Um…” you try to think of the right words to say. How can you explain that you decided to not attend the party, you have actually decided to leave the RFA and Jaehee behind. Seven grew impatient on the other end of the call. “Why are you not here! We are all waiting for you! Jaehee is waiting for you! Can you not understand how worried they are about you!” His harsh tone makes you jump, and you can feel yourself start to cry even more. “I’m so sorry…” you hear a commotion from the phone and another person speak down the phone. ; “Oh my! You are ok, oh thank god, What’s happened, has there been an issue?” Jaehee asks after taking the phone from Seven despite his protests. She paces back and forth, awaiting a response from you, she nibbles at her lip in worry that something serious has happened. “Jaehee…” she hears from the phone which snaps her out of her thoughts. “Yes, I’m here! Are you ok?” Jaehee replies in a rushed voice, she looked at the crowd, the place felt empty without you and Jaehee could feel the glares from Jumin burning into her soul. “I’m not coming. I’m sorry.” Jaehee held a breath unsure what to do with the news “It’s ok, I hope you are safe. I have something important to ask you. I would have preferred to ask face to face…” she says ready to tell you about her plan for the future with you. “Jaehee…I’ve always decided to not stay in the RFA. This is just not for me. I’m sorry, but I need to go.” The phone disconnects and Jaehee stares at it in disbelief. Seven stood awkwardly beside her, “What happened?” Jaehee handed the phone back to Seven, ignoring his question. She looked at the key in her hand, the one that was for the new coffee shop that you both were going to own. Jaehee’s hand trembles at the thought of her confidence and dream fading away, she glances at the crowd and spots Jumin. She prepares herself to beg for her job back and leaves Seven in the hallway. 

Yoosung - You hear your phone on the table next to the bed, wake you from your slumber. The sound of a chatroom notification hits your ear, and you groan. Today was the day of the party, and you felt awful, you were worried about Yoosung from the night before. He sounded strange during phone calls and his lack of presence in the chatrooms the day before worried you. You hoped that he would be in the new chatroom to put your mind at ease, but you were wrong. You chatted with the other members, but the back of your mind kept worrying about Yoosung and your current `relationship’ if you could call it that. You thought he was stupid for running off with Seven to try to expose the hacker, but he wanted to prove himself. “How reckless” you mutter as you continue to converse with the other members, now wishing the conversation would end so you could return back to sleep. You glance up at the dress you had chosen to wear to the party when you excited a couple of days ago. But now it was a reminder of the dreadful night to come, another groan escapes your lips as you return to your phone and said goodbye to the RFA. You were prepared to put your phone back down and fall back to sleep when you noticed a phone call from Yoosung coming through. Your fingers having a mind of their own answer the call which you originally wanted to ring out. You leave the phone in your hand for a moment, as you hear Yoosung talking down the phone trying to get your attention. `Fake it’ you thought, you wanted to get the call over quickly and taking your time to answer him will not achieve that. During the phone call, you act excited about the party and listen to him talking about how much he loves you. You grimace in response and quickly end the call. You sigh and put your head in your hands, the first couple of days of the RFA was amazing. You were enjoying the attention you were receiving from all members, especially Yoosung, who seemed to have fallen head over heels for you. But now you wished you never helped that stranger, that you ignored the messages and continued on with your normal life. Emailing the guests was stressful, the mention of Rika burdened you and having to keep up with Yoosung was exhausting. You needed a holiday from it all. Yes, you wanted to attend the party and marvel in all your hard work, but then you would have to encounter all of the RFA members and hear stories about past parties with Rika. You hated the comparison, they all acted like they knew you weren’t her but still compared you to her. It drove you crazy. You felt like screaming; instead, you stood up from the bed and stormed over the dress. ; Jaehee was standing at the entrance of the party, waiting for the newest member to arrive. It has been about half an hour since the party began and almost all the guests have arrived. She flicked through the guest list once more, just in case she missed you before handing the list to a staff member so she can join the party. Seven was acting strangely and was keeping eyes on the entrance, only nodding along to Jumin and ZEN’s conversation, much to the actor’s disappointment. Your lack of presence was noticeable to all of the members and the guests were asking about the `kind person who emailed them’. It wasn’t until V came up to the trio of members that the panic sank in. “Is (Y/N) here yet?” V said nonchalantly. Questions about V’s eyesight and where was Yoosung were thrown back and forth, but V just repeated his question. “Um… no, she hasn’t arrived yet.” answered ZEN, which gained the response of a sigh from V. “I better notify Yoosung. He wanted to make a romantic gesture, but there is no point in starting it now if she hasn’t arrived.” V was about to turn around as Seven catches his arm “Wait, Yoosung is here? What about his eye?” the first words Seven spoke all night, came out shaky. V ignored the question as the other members started to ask Seven what he meant by that statement. V had suddenly started walking back to Yoosung which triggered the other members to follow, including Jaehee who had listened in to the conversation. ; Yoosung sat at a table furthest away from the party’s entrance, his hands slightly shaking from his nerves. Every now and then he would touch this bandages to make them they haven’t moved and would wince at the pain. He could see from the corner of his eye that V was returning, Yoosung prepared to hear the news that you had arrived and rose from the table. “Oh my god. Yoosung!” he heard, he gazed behind V to see the RFA members. He smiled weakly and tried to hide his bandages with his hand, hissing to V “This wasn’t the plan! (Y/N) wasn’t supposed to see me yet!” The RFA glanced at each other, unsure how to tell Yoosung that you were not here yet. “Yoosung, (Y/N) hasn’t arrived yet.” replied Jumin, as the other members nodded. Yoosung chuckled assuming it was a joke until he glanced at the group in front of him. He noticed their sad faces and that you were not with them. He was sure that they wouldn’t have left you behind yourself, so it had to be true. Yoosung stumbled back into the chair he was previously sitting at, the other members worried that he had hurt himself. “Why… Why isn’t she here yet? She said she was coming. She was so excited.” He mumbled to himself, before looking up at the other members “Why is she not here?” His eyes snapped shut as he spoke, which gained another wince coming from his mouth. V instantly turned to the RFA members and decided to find out where you were. Seven was instructed to track you down, Jaehee and ZEN were instructed to try to call your phone while Jumin was in charge of checking if you were online in the chatroom. V sat next to Yoosung as the chaotic scene played out before them. He hesitated to place a hand on Yoosung’s back, but as he saw Yoosung soften under his touch, he started to rub it, to try to comfort him. Yoosung placed his head in his hands, his mind going crazy at thoughts of why you were not at the party. ; You were sitting in the back of a taxi when you could hear your phone going crazy in your pocket, the driver made a noise of annoyance. You apologise as you pull the phone out, embarrassed by the noises it was making. ZEN’s name popped up on the phone, you quickly hit ignore but as soon as you did that Jaehee’s name popped up. You continue to reject the calls that were coming in until you see another name join the callees. The option to reject was suddenly unavailable which you gasped at, you were forced to answer this person. “Hello?” you say, you could sense the fear in your voice which gains a raise of the eyebrow from your driver, you turn away from him. If you were going to get yelled at, you didn’t want this stranger to see you cry. “How dare you!” replies the voice, it was rough and penetrating to hear. You wanted to challenge the person on the phone, but you knew better to start arguing with them. “Nothing to say, huh? Figures. Explain this to me (Y/N), I can see that you are nowhere near the party. You are not even near the apartment. Where are running away to?” Seven’s voice pierced through you, and you wince at his words. “Oh, no! Did I hurt you? Boohoo. You’ve done the same to all of us!” You couldn’t just sit there, you had to defend yourself, but how? “Seven, just shut up! You have no idea what I’m going through right now! I didn’t want to be in the stupid RFA, I didn’t want to take on Rika’s futile job, and I didn’t want to be in a relationship with Yoosung! I didn’t want any of this!” You take deep breaths and wait for a response from the hacker, ready to continue this fight. ; Unknown to you, Seven had the whole conversation from the start on speakerphone, and the rest of the RFA had heard your whole conversation. After you rejecting Jaehee’s and ZEN’s calls, they decided that when you did answer, they would put it on speaker to ensure you were ok. They were not expecting your outburst. Gasps from all the members could be heard on the phone, and they all looked at Yoosung who was now distraught. Yoosung, who had tears rolling round his face, picked up the phone. He walked away from the other members and took you off of speaker “Sweetie? I’m sorry you feel this way.” His voice cracking as he spoke. “I’m sorry you were forced to join us…We didn’t realise how draining this was for you... We… I’m sorry.” Yoosung brushed his hair out of face as he looked back at the other members who all had worried looks on their faces. “You know that I love you. I hate for you to leave like this…” Yoosung was going to continue until he heard the dial tone ring out from the phone. His face fell as he realised you had hung up on him, his lips now trembling to try to keep any sobs from escaping. He turned back to the other members and requested to be taken back to the hospital.

ZEN - You lean against the bathroom sink, hoping to calm your nerves for the event that was going to start soon. You had convinced ZEN that you should return to the apartment before the party so you could get ready, but honestly, it was because you needed to rethink things. ZEN seemed a little hesitant to let you go back, especially as he was nervous that the hacker could return. You splashed cold water in your face, in an attempt to calm yourself. You enjoyed ZEN’s company when you were at his apartment, but now that you have returned, you had realised how dramatic his situation was. The social media thinks he’s this awful person because of Echo Girl and you didn’t want to be involved with that. : ZEN had entered the venue without you, narrowly missing the mixed crowd outside. A large crowd of Echo Girl fans, paparazzi and his own fans had gathered and made it slightly difficult to get inside. He was glad that you had decided to arrive by yourself after seeing the chaos he had created, other guests had their pictures taken of but did not receive the same verbal treatment that ZEN had. Awful thoughts of what they could have said about you entered ZEN’s mind, which he quickly tried to ignore. He searches the hall looking for you, wanting to meet up with you to ensure that you were ok, you seemed a bit strange the night before, especially as you suggested doing back to the apartment. ZEN spots Jaehee talking to staff members for the event, so he decides to check in with her about where you were. “Jaehee!” ZEN said as he approached her, she turned quickly and smiled at him “ZEN, you have arrived! You look handsome as always. I’m sure (Y/N) looks gorgeous too.” ZEN could see the twinkle in Jaehee’s eyes as she examines his outfit. “Ha-ha, thank you. Speaking of (Y/N). Has she arrived yet?” Jaehee stared up at him, confused, “What do you mean? She told me she was coming with you?” ZEN assumed that you forgot to tell Jaehee about your decision last night so started to clear up the mistake and explain that you were arriving by yourself. “Huh…” Jaehee began, flicking through the guest list in front of her. “She didn’t mention this, this morning. She actually confirmed that you were attending together.” ZEN’s eyes widen, why would you tell Jaehee that? His mind races, thinking that something happened the night before that you disliked making you say that. “She hasn’t arrived yet, I’m sorry ZEN. I need to return to my post. I’ll notify you as soon as she arrives.” Jaehee says, pulling him out of his thoughts. ZEN frantically pulled his phone out of his pocket and calls your number, praying that you will answer. The phone goes to voicemail which makes him panic, ZEN starts to phone someone else to get advice. A ring could be heard behind him, “Huh. Zenny, don’t you think it’s rude to call someone who is attending an important event? Especially if they are right behind you?” Seven’s voice says both through the phone and from behind ZEN. ZEN turned quickly to face Seven. The desperation on his face becoming evident to the hacker. “Woah… are you ok?” ZEN ignores Seven’s question as he stumbles for words. “I… I need your help.” ; You could hear your phone making noises from the next room, you place the plate you were washing on the drying rack and leave to find your phone. You were preparing to leave Rika’s apartment but didn’t want to leave it a mess, you weren’t sure when the next time someone would enter it, and you didn’t want the place looking disgusting. Your phone lay on the coffee table, and it was going crazy. Suddenly a high pitch squeal escapes it, you scream and cover your ears. What the hell was wrong with it? You grab it to see a notification of someone calling you, you hesitate to answer it but prayed it would stop the awful squealing noise. “Hello?” You sigh as you hear the noise disappear, that was a weird glitch, you had to be sure to get that fixed once you leave. “Oh, it’s so nice of you to pick up.” The voice on the other end of the call was recognisable but seemed so cold you couldn’t pinpoint who it was. “My phone was in another room, I apologise.” You reply, sure that you knew this person. “That’s strange. Shouldn’t you be on the way to the party?” You suddenly figure out the voice, it was one of the RFA members, scratch that, it was Seven. You wanted to hang up the phone and turn it off so that you didn’t need to hear the discipline you will receive. “Seven, I told you to hand the phone over if you could connect the call. Don’t be so harsh with her!” You could hear another voice talk and take the phone off of Seven, oh thank god… “Princess, has something happened? Are you still coming.” You start shaking as you hear the last person you wanted to talk to on the phone, speak. You could deal with telling Seven the situation and him getting mad at you, but could you really break the news to ZEN? It would crush him. “Yeah… I’m fine” You lie, trying to buy yourself time to think of the proper way to tell ZEN why you weren’t attending. You hear him sigh on the other end of the call. “Oh thank god, I thought the hacker got to you or something. Are you on your way?” You had little time to think, but you couldn’t lie anymore to him, you whisper out a response of “No”. You could feel yourself shake even more, and tears fall from your face. You didn’t want to tell him, not now when he should be enjoying the party. ; ZEN’s mind was racing, he was thankful that you were safe, but now you were acting strange. “Are you sick? Do you need me to come to take care of you?” He said, getting ready to leave the party to come to support you. “No… I’m fine. I’m not coming to the party.” ZEN looked over at the hall as you said that, catches the other RFA members mingling. “Can I ask why?” he said, unsure if he wanted to know the answer now. “I’ve decided to leave the RFA…” ZEN turns his back on the crowd so no one could see his tears which were forming “You… you can’t do that!” ZEN breathed down the phone, trying to calm his voice to not show any signs of sadness. “I’ve made my mind up. Please apologise to everyone for me, and please don’t try to track me down.” ZEN sobs down the phone instead of replying to your comment, unable to speak. “Goodbye, Hyun. I’ll miss you.” He hears you say before the dial tone rings out. ZEN stands in place confused about the scene that just played out, tears rolling down his face as he can feel his heartbreaking. 

[honestgrins]

Cutthroat || Klaroline

She’s determined to win, but she’s not above teaming up with a rival to knock out a worse one. (Cutthroat Kitchen AU)

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“Chef Matt,” Alaric intoned solemnly, “you are dismissed. Please relinquish your remaining funds.”

As the burly blond handed over the cash he never even had a chance to spend, Caroline bristled with the thrill of competition. Unfortunately for her, Damon and Klaus seemed just as energized, and she highly resented the elbow poked into her side. “Quarterback down,” Damon sneered next to her. “Is the cheerleader next? Maybe I’ll sabotage you with pom poms next, though I’ll be honest, the skirt would be better.”

She scowled as he leered down the line of her leg, tired of his needling and the gross stares. But she knew what she’d signed up for when first auditioning for Cutthroat Kitchen, and trash talk was the least of her worries. Working with tiny pans and utensils hadn’t been easy, but she’d managed a decent frittata in the first round, and she definitely enjoyed watching Klaus grimace at the substitute ingredients he’d been forced to use. 

Damon, though, he deserved more than a little hardship for this next round. Glancing over to Klaus, she found him watching her curiously. She arched an eyebrow and nodded to the sleazy chef between them. He smirked, which shouldn’t have left her blushing like it did. It’s just a truce, she reminded herself. Come the final round, he’s toast.

At least, she hoped. Klaus Mikaelson was something of a legend around Chicago, where she’d only just gotten her foot in the door of the industry. While she had full faith in her own abilities, the barbs about her lack of experience and youth weren’t exactly unfounded. All she could do was make up for it with enthusiasm and creativity, which the show usually rewarded. But she’d also survived high school and her sorority house, so psychological warfare was second nature to her. 

With the dark gleam of satisfaction on Klaus’s face as he nodded, she wondered if maybe she shouldn’t have conspired with Damon to kick him out first.

Steeling herself, Caroline turned to watch Alaric set up for the next challenge. “Alright, chefs,” he greeted with an evil smile. “For this round, you will be expected to make...spaghetti and meatballs! You have sixty seconds to shop for this basic dish. Go.” 

She rushed forward to beat Damon to the produce, eagerly filling her basket with the best tomatoes, onions, and herbs. Luckily, she was paying attention to Klaus, who’d taken to clearing the pasta shelf into his basket. With a quick pinch of the last box of angel hair, she couldn’t help a grin to match his own when she ducked under his arm to grab the crustiest bread she could find.

“Thirty seconds!”

Oil, garlic, ground beef, a few too many spices - she frantically ran through the list in her head, sure that she was missing something important. 

“And time. Chefs, please return to your stations.” Caroline bit her lip, painfully aware of the eggs she completely forgot. Refusing to let on about her mild panic, she fought to hold a blank expression as the others tried to size up her basket. It was pretty basic for most recipes, and they didn’t seem to pick up her hopefully not fatal error. “For the first sabotage, I have for you all a handy little device to hinder your opponents.” He held it up, the cuffs and plexiglas shining under the stage lights. “This is the Salad Bar to accompany your Italian classic,” he teased.

Alaric could call it what he wanted, but that was definitely a spreader bar she’d seen featured in an...adult catalog. Before she could school her reaction, however, she let out an indelicate snort. Only Klaus seemed to notice, his smirk somehow deepening with a far dirtier glint. Oh, she sighed internally, a twinge low in her belly warming her with something other than embarrassment. Interesting.

“Two thousand,” Klaus called out, not taking his eyes from her.

“Three-five,” she countered. Maybe her voice didn’t sound as breathy as it felt.

“Ten thousand.” Damon gave her the slimiest look, and it took everything in her not to throw away the rest of her cash to make sure he didn’t get to put her in some BDSM fantasy of his.

Klaus, who had yet to spend any money, glared him down. “Eleven,” he said smoothly. With plenty of money to outbid Damon’s draining budget, he all but dared him to bankrupt himself. 

“Eleven going once, twice,” Alaric watched them all with interest, then smiled. “Sold. Chef Klaus, collect your winnings and crown whomever you’d like.” He collected the money and passed over the bar with a gleeful wink. “Choose wisely.”

Pretending to consider it, Klaus all but tossed the thing at Damon. “You don’t strike me as the type to be comfortable with restraint,” he goaded. 

Gamely strapping himself in, Damon blew him a kiss. “Easy as pie, big bad,  even if it’s too bad Barbie Chef didn’t get a chance to impress us with her...coordination.”

She grit her teeth, waiting to pummel him with the next sabotage. When Alaric brought it forward, though, she nearly jumped for joy.

“Who is going to be the Egghead?” he asked, holding a little headband strapped to an egg cup. “Whoever wears this will have to balance an egg throughout the challenge. If the egg breaks, I’m happy to replace it...for five hundred dollars a plop.”

Provided she got to keep her basket, she could more than afford breaking a couple of eggs - right into her meatball recipe. But first, she had to get one of the boys to ‘gift’ it to her. “Five thousand!”

“Six,” Klaus immediately raised, meeting her eyes with a curious glance. He could really mess with her plan if he wanted to, and she felt a wave of relief when Damon shouted out another ten thousand dollar bid. Klaus luckily backed off, and she could finally breathe. 

Once Damon was announced the winner, she held back a wicked smile until he placed the gadget on her head. Unsettled, he backed away quickly, suspicious to the extreme. Alaric helpfully balanced an egg in the little cup, reminding her of the $500 penalty for each egg broken - but he never said she couldn’t use said broken eggs. Fully justified in her strategy, as soon as the timer started, she made a little bed of ground beef in her mixing bowl and let the first egg fall.  “Whoops!”

Alaric shook his head, clearly amused by her obvious scheming. “Come get your replacement, chef.”

She rushed over to him with her fine and hurried back to start breaking down her bread into crumbs, needing to toss them into the oven to dry out a bit. Chopping onions and tomatoes quickly, she fills the saucepan before Alaric could bring out another sabotage. The more quickly she can get her elements cooking, the more likely she’d get to keep them - she prayed, anyway.

“How’s that egg scramble coming, Blondie?” Damon taunted, though his voice was strained with the effort of mixing meatballs with only one hand bound awkwardly to the other. “It’d be a shame for you to drop another.”

“Actually, it’s been a big help. Hard to bind a meatball without an egg, and would you believe I forgot to grab them from the pantry?” She winked at his dumbfounded expression, primly brushing back her ponytail. “I was a pageant queen, chef. If I can balance a book on my head for an hour in heels, I can handle an egg just fine.”

Klaus laughed at that, though his big hands never stopped their flurry of activity over his station. “A tiara suits you, love, you should have brought it along.”

“The only crown won here is whatever cash you still have at the end of the day,” Alaric pointed out. “That said, who wants to replace their opponents’ stovetop for a camping stove?”

“Eight thousand!” Klaus called, knowing full well he was the only one who could afford such a bid in the second round. 

Caroline immediately moved her half formed meatballs to the sauce; her only hope would be to oven bake them both while using the tiny stove to boil water for her pasta. Though she did lose another egg to her hurried actions, it was more than worth the penalty to see Damon struggle moving his pot of water down from the counter. “Careful!” she called. “You don’t want to spill and have to start over!”

“Shut up, Barbie!”

“And I always thought the trash talk on this show was so witty,” Klaus pouted, whipping some cream into his sauce. “Don’t hold back, Damon, really let yourself loose.”

Muttering from the floor, Damon did let loose a few curse words Caroline hoped the cameras wouldn’t pick up. But she still laughed, happy to see her sauce bubbling softly in the oven. 

Klaus feigned a scandalized horror. “Such language.”

“If you’re looking for the Great British Bake-Off, you’re on the wrong side of the pond, friend,” she teased.

“Oh,” he chuckled. “The baby chef is trying to teach me something, okay.”

“Baby?!”

He shrugged, unconcerned by her offended outburst. “Come chop a few hundred onions a day in my kitchen, sweetheart, then maybe you’ll earn a gold star or two for your mum’s refrigerator.”

Eyes narrowed, she only just held back from pointing her knife in a vaguely threatening direction. “Can’t, it’s too full of awards and news clippings. Like the latest rave review from the Sun-Times. Did you know they named my restaurant as the best dining experience in the city for their editor’s list?”

“I did.” Caroline watched him in shock as he appeared entirely unbothered. “But I believe mine earned the Michelin star this year.” She licked her lips at the smug dimples peeking out from his cheeks; it really was unfair how sexy confidence could be. 

“Two minutes!” 

All the contestants rushed to plate their dishes, and even Caroline felt a little bad for Damon trying to neaten up the mess of his with one hand throwing off his balance. But then she remembered the egg sitting at the top of her forehead, and focused instead on carefully grating some cheese over her mostly passable pasta. Klaus’s, of course, looked like fine cuisine, right down to the twist of his noodles into a birds nest holding three perfectly proportioned meatballs.

To no one’s surprise, the guest judge sent Damon home with more than a few critiques for his ‘lack of polish.’ Alaric called for a fifteen minute break, and Caroline gratefully ran to the craft services table for a bottle of water and some fruit. Klaus followed at a more sedate pace, though he did steal a grape from her plate. “Thanks for teaming up back there,” she said. “I’d hate to be stuck with Damon for more terrible nicknames.”

“I’m sure you would have survived despite our machinations, love. I am impressed with your little egg game, though.”

She blushed. “Well, I’m the one who forgot the stupid eggs in the first place. Let’s be honest, you wouldn’t let me through the doors of your Michelin restaurant with that kind of preparation.”

His smile softened, and she really liked how it looked on his face. “You might be surprised. In fact,” he added nonchalantly, “I’m hoping you might stop in when we’re back in Chicago. I’ve only read about the lobster bisque you made for that glowing review, and I’d be honored to offer you the chance to make it in a real kitchen.”

“And give up my recipe to the competition? No way,” she scoffed, chest warm with pride and more than a little flattered.

Smirking at her resistance, he stole another grape. “Shall we make a wager of it, sweetheart? If I win this dessert round, you make that bisque for me.”

Her eyelashes fluttered. “What do I get when I win?”

Klaus just grinned, wide and knowing. “Whatever you want.“ Oh, that shouldn’t have sent a wonderful shiver down her spine. “May the best chef win,” he challenged.

Caroline shook his proffered hand with her game face on. “Don’t worry, she will.” After all, the stakes had just gotten a lot more interesting.

[jeonggukingdom]

midsummer night’s dream (m)

▽ Pairing: Jimin x Reader

▽ Genre: fairy!AU, fantasy, fluff, angst, smut

▽ Summary:  Five years have passed since you first visited the Fae Court and ever since Jimin, the Fae Prince, has held your heart in his hands. You have loved him all those years, from afar, for Fae and humans are not allowed to be together. You are promised to another man but when your feelings appear to be reciprocated, everything changes. ↳ alternatively: breaking everyone’s hearts 

▽ Word Count: 16.358 words (if you have problems with long fics on your app, all my stories are cross-posted on AO3!)

▽ WARNINGS: graphic depictions of sexual intercourse, unprotected sex, very unrealistic first time.

▽AN: I’d like to thank both @fireheart-namjoon  and @hobiwonder for helping me through this and encouraging me all the times I was either desperate or whining, lol. I love you ♥

It’s at the cusp of dusk, when the sun is still set in the sky but starting to tinge everything in hues of purple and orange, that your carriage halts its movements at the command of your coachman. The summer breeze infiltrates the cubicle through the small curtains and brushes on your skin almost as a welcoming act and, truthfully, it does feel like homecoming but, sadly, not quite.

This land of magic and impossible beings is not your home and anyone looking at you enough to notice, would immediately understand you do not belong there in the slightest. Yet, it is still welcoming and as you step out of your vehicle, you inhale deeply the air around you that always carries a soft scent of lavender and peaches.

Your eyes marvel at the scenery all around you, a sight that is now familiar but, at the same time, unusual in its uniqueness.

There are lands upon lands of colorful grass and plants you do not know the name of, the citadel around the castle brimming with life and beauty and magic.

The atmosphere vibrates all around you, saturated with the power of all the inhabitants of the land and your heart twists painfully at the mere thought of never being able to see any of this again.

Coming to the Yhesha Kingdom had been a duty for the first months and then it had become a pleasure and, ultimately, it had turned into something you’d waited with all your being, your body quivering in the night as the days thinned out on the calendar, nearing to the date that will allow you to come back. Now, the feeling building inside of you as you scan this impossible and beautiful land, is a bittersweet one.

There was a time when Inareth had felt like your only possible home, there was a time when leaving the safety and comforts of your chambers had been almost torture but now, everything feels different. Everything is different.

You turn your back to the wondrous city and your eyes settle on the magnificent castle, its private walls awaiting your arrival.

Every time your eyes land on the reflecting surface of the towers your breath gets caught in your lungs. It’s a feeling of amazement even familiarity can’t eclipse.

The high turrets fend the sky, tips as sharps as stalactites, in their glassy mauve and coral pink hues; big windows reflect the light in all directions from the peaks of the towers, looking like crystals in the sky. Someone would think a castle as such would be easy to access, to break and to conquer but the magic brimming from every single inch of it would prove any invader otherwise. The Yhesha Castle is as beautiful as it is impregnable.

Water of an impossible turquoise separates the castle from the rest of the land but the drawbridge is already set in its place, waiting for you to walk on the silvery path and be welcomed in the Fae Court.

You step on the transparent surface of the bridge, the light reflecting on it almost painful to your human eyes, and inhale deeply. The walk from the land to the Castle seems always interminable and you suspect part of the reasons to be your haste to reach the Court faster and also the fear of slipping on that seamless surface with your high heels and break your neck dying a stupid and unfortunate death.

This time, the walk to the opened door seems to last only a few seconds and you wonder if it’s because you are lost deep inside your thoughts or if it’s because you already know this is the last time you’ll ever walk this path going inside the Castle. You fear the walk back from the Fae Court will be torture and nothing in the scenery will be able to catch your eyes enough to distract you from the inevitable goodbye and the pain that comes with it.

You shake your head, your loose strands of hair slightly hitting your face as you do so, and proceed forward, determined not to think of your future for as long as you’re held inside the Castle walls.

Your eyes fix on the huge silver door at the end of your path and a smile stretches your mouth the moment you see it opening from within, welcoming you inside as if you were the rightful owner of this entire Land and, for a moment, you truly wish you were.

Your eyes train along the hall’s wall, the arches a pearly white studded with precious purple gems all over their surface. After years spent inside the Court you are familiar enough with each and every door and aisle in the Fae Castle but, still, your feet halt and you stand right in the middle of the room as the grand door closes behind your back.

The light of the twilight shines inside the hall from the glass rooftop and it tinges everything in a nice and atmospheric hue you could never witness back home — a place of endless winter and perpetual snow.

Your hands shake around your stomach and you interlace your fingers to hide the otherwise evident tremor, torturing your phalanges with intricate patterns to calm your nerves.

Loud steps announce you the imminent arrival of your hosts and you inhale deeply, closing your eyes the briefest of moments to regain control over your turmoil and prepare to present yourself at your absolute best — a fundamental requirement for a Princess, after all.

You cannot stop the rampant beating of your heart, though, as your entire being throbs in anticipation and you wet your cherry-tinted lips, allowing your gaze to divert from the room to scan your attire and make last minute adjustments if anything is found out of place.

The long dress you decided to wear is a pastel lilac, as close as you could get it to the Castle itself, and the satin fabric hugs your curves around your stomach, giving you that desired hourglass figure you are always praised for within this court. The corset is tight around your ribs, hugging your breasts in a way that would almost be indecent if you’d wear this same outfit in the Inarethian Court but that it is more than welcomed between the Faes.

Your pupils dilate with excitement as the sound gets louder in the corridor to your far left and you slightly turn your body to face the arch, eager to be faced again with the impossibly handsome features of the Prince.

A smile is plastered on your face and it takes all your effort to not make it falter once the owner of those loud steps comes into view. It is not an unpleasant welcoming, not in the slightest, but it is not who you’ve been dying to meet for the last couple of months and disappointment tugs hard at your heartstrings.

King Seung Won stands right before you, a welcoming smile on his sharp features and an aura of gold surrounding him, a small token of his grand magical power.

Your body springs into action and you bow before him as he steps closer, a warm hand briefly touching your shoulder as he greets your respectful manners with mirth.

“Did you have a nice ride, dear?” He asks, the corners of his mouth lifting as he intercepts your gaze and locks it on his own eyes.

The King moves elegantly around the hall, personally escorting you through the path that will unmistakably lead to your chambers inside the Fae Castle and you follow suit, your gaze unwavering from his figure. He is tall and lean, muscles can be seen through the soft fabric of his simple black attire and, for a brief moment, you can see the Prince in the way his father talks and glances at you or even in the way his eyes land on your figure.

His eyes are black as onyx but shine like opals, another otherworldly sign of the magic that pumps through his veins, and they remind you of a cat’s — feline and always attentive.

“I did, thank you, your Majesty,” your voice is soft as it leaves your mouth and it is met with another gentle smile.

The Fae King oozes power and his presence does induce compliance but, at the same time, he is a master at making people feel at ease — a quality inherited by the Prince as well.

He must read your continuous thoughts of the Prince inside your glinting irises because the next thing he chooses to say regards his absence from the welcoming party.

“My son was really sorry he couldn’t come welcoming you as he always does,” he tilts his head to the side and glances at you with what you believe to be a knowing  look, “But he had a hunting trip with the Redcap ambassador that could not be postponed.”

A shiver runs down your spine at the mention of the humanoid creatures known for their insatiable bloodlust and you refrain yourself from asking what the subject of the hunting was.

“I understand, your Majesty,” you reply, unable to conceal the pout forming on your lips as you look down at your beautiful dress, designed specifically for the Prince to witness.

The Fae Kingdom is populated with insuperable beauty and even the handmaidens of the Castle are true beauties concealed in servant clothes, therefore, all your efforts when coming to this impossible Land resides in being up to par with the standards of the Court. Simply, you want all of them to be impressed with the human Princess and, more importantly, you want to impress him, the center of your preposterous love for humans should never fall in love with Faes.

“He shall be making it right on time for the party, tomorrow night.”

His steps come to a halt and you are surprised to find yourself standing right in front of the door to your private chambers. Lost within your thoughts you had completely lost track of your path and now you stood, quite dumbfounded, right at your destination.

The mention of the party immediately lifts your mood, not only because it means you’ll finally be able to see the object of your inner desires but, also, because the Fae Court really does know how to entertain their guests and you cannot wait to witness yet another one of their grand shows.

Your smile must give out the excitement throbbing in your body because the King chuckles at your expression and takes a step forward, leveling his face to yours so you can look him right in the eyes.

“I have something special prepared for you this time, Princess,” a wicked smile appears on his lips and your heart stumbles in elation.

“Thank you for your kindness, your Majesty,” you slightly bow in gratitude for his attention and then lift your gaze to study his expression, “And for walking me to my chambers,” you add, looking at the golden frame on your right side.

He waves a hand as if it weren’t a big of a deal and then turns on his heels, hands resting behind his back and, without uttering a single word, he leaves you alone in the vast corridor, body still lunging forward in your small version of a curtsy.

There had been a time where you had been startled by the bending of the rules inside this Castle but now, you wouldn’t even question the actions of any of its inhabitants.

Where in the Inarethian Court it would be unthinkable for the King to not only come alone to greet his guests but also to personally escort them to their room, here it was nothing to be surprised of.

Where Servants in your Castle were just that and, very rarely, maybe friends, here in the Land of Fae, the only inkling that they were servants at all was in their occupations and attire. It had been odd to adapt at first and to forgo all you have been taught about what is proper and what is not, or how to entertain your company and speak to anyone respectfully. Simply, the society of the Fae has much more bendable rules and, after years of practice, you have come to love the free way of living the Faes have. Even being a Princess isn’t as much of a burden here as it is inside your very home. You are you, no matter your title, and the feeling of being accepted for your true nature and not because they simply have to endure your company even if they’d rather not, is the most wonderful feeling you have ever felt.

Heaving out a sigh, you turn towards the door, the fatigue of the long ride finally catching up to you now that the excitement has significantly died down for the current evening.

The door opens under your touch and you step inside, inhaling deep the perfume of freshly washed sheets and that underlined taste of oranges that always accompanies your room and every time, you wonder how they even found out that to be your favorite fruit.

The big canopy bed resides at the center of the room, covers a pleasant lavender and deep purple calling you in the comfort of their warmness; the light of the night sky shines through the oval window at the other side of the room and you find yourself walking across the chamber to look up at the glittery stars sprawled on the navy blue carpet.

In that moment, looking up outside your window, your thoughts wander off to the Prince once again, miles and miles of colorful land stretching between you and you wonder if, in this moment, he is looking at the sky too, thinking of you.

Your heart aches at the thought and neither ‘yes’ nor ‘no’ are a pleasant answer to your question for, ‘yes’ would mean shattering his heart and yours in return and ‘no’ would feel like stepping on the splintered potsherds of your feeble soul.

The light comes through the window in thick rays, engulfing the expanse of the room with white and pastel lilac hues given by the reflective surfaces of the external walls.

It is with immense effort that your eyes flutter open and it takes a few moments for them to adjust to the merciless light of the summer morning.

You lift your back up and stretch your muscles in a way that would get you scolded back home for not being womanly enough and a deep yawn shatters the silence of your private chambers.

Strong knocks are delivered to your door and a soft voice calls your name to stir you up from your slumber.

A small smile stretches on your lips and you jump out of your bed, rushing to open the door. Instantly, you are met with the lovable gaze of EunBi, a young and adorable Fae with long green hair and a sweet smile always plastered on her lips. She should be, by definition of the Inarethian Court, a servant girl but here, where rules are bent and nobody is there to scold you, she is more of a friend than anything else.

“Good morning, Princess!” Her enthusiastic voice rings in your ears and you lunge forward, hugging her small frame to your chest. EunBi is one of the very few friends you have scattered along the vastness of Ikos and she is, by far, the most trustworthy of the whole lot for she is Fae and one of the reasons you find their company so delectable is their incapability to lie.

“I missed you so much,” you shriek in her ear, indulging a little bit more in the tightness of your embrace.

“I missed you too, Princess.”

Her hands caress the small of your back and the hint of true affection in her gesture warms your heart and almost brings tears to your eyes.

The moment you let go of her she snaps back into her designated role and with attentive eyes, she scans your tangled hair and disheveled night attire.

“You look...” she pauses, her lips jutting out in a pout, “Well, terrible right now, but I can tell you have been well.”

Her remark makes you laugh and you drag her inside the room, eager to watch her hands do the magic and transform you into the better version of yourself.

For the first ten minutes all you do is talk and ask questions to your loyal friend, her gossips of the intricate relationships inside the Castle always delight you and you often find yourself laughing or screeching at the news of people falling in and out of love — not to mention those who bravely fight for their loved ones, whether it is in duel for the boys or by pulling hair for the girls. In this, the Fae race is as mundane as the humans are.

“You should get dress, Princess. Breakfast is going to be here any minute,” she says, sprinting back up from her relaxed sitting position on the soft floor and you hum, dragging yourself across the room to follow her quick movements.

It is a miracle how in the span of a few minutes EunBi manages to pull your frame inside a tight sapphire dress and do your hair in silky curls.

“Would you like me to change your hair color, Princess? Something to match the dress?” She looks at you with glinting eyes and for a moment you consider her proposition just to humor her but, ultimately, you decide against it and she adorably pouts in your direction.

She stays quiet for a moment, pondering her options and then a light shines through her eyes and you hold your breath, wondering what she has in store for you.

Looking in the mirror right across you, you watch the magic sprinkle out of her fingers in the form of azure glittery dust that falls between the loose curls of your hair, your face and your exposed cleavage making you shine like one of their kind. You stare at yourself in shock, wondering how it would be like to be born like this: with magic oozing out of you in shining gleams all over your skin.

“This is beautiful, EunBi,” you manage to whisper, unable to take your eyes off of yourself.

She chuckles at your side and hugs your shoulders from behind, resting her chin on her small hand.

“I can only spark up what’s already there, Princess.”

The sound of soft knocks on your door is what interrupts your little moment. With a bittersweet heart, you watch her cross the room, spring in her feet as she almost levitates above the ground, and you have to force down the lump forming in your throat at the idea of never seeing her again.

Breakfast and her duties are what save you from confronting EunBi about your impending future and having to deal with the heartbreak that would come with the realization sinking in further. Because, still, a part of you wishes for it all to be a ludicrous nightmare.

With your mind drifting off to these incessant thoughts, you spend the afternoon tuning in and out of the conversations led at the rounded table of the Council. It is one of your duties as the human ambassador to participate in the reunions between the Fae and the human councilors. Of course, your presence it is only a mere formality as it usually is the one of the Prince which, of course, is missing in this particular occasion.

Usually, him sitting across from you is what makes the hours tick by faster as you exchange looks and smile every now and then, entertaining a silent conversation from afar.

A pout forms on your mouth as your gaze darts toward the open window to your far right and you find yourself pondering what the Prince is doing right now and if he will be able to make it in time for tonight. Because if he can’t, you won’t be able to say goodbye and that would be the biggest regret of your entire life.

“Princess,” the mellow voice of Min Yoongi pulls you from your deep thoughts and your gaze refocuses on the face of the Inareth delegate — and best friend — sitting right next to you.

“The council is over,” he says, a small smirk on his rosy lips and you feel blood rush to your cheeks as you look around to see that almost everybody in the small room is already gone through the door.

“Preoccupied about something?” he asks once he is positive no stranger ears are going to eavesdrop your conversation.

You stay silent for a moment and then your throat swells with the urgency to cry or scream, or possibly both at the same time.

“I don’t want to say goodbye,” you whisper in a choke, averting your gaze from his because you can already sense the pity in his demeanor and it is too much for your already breaking heart.

“I’m sorry, Princess.”

His hand caresses your cheek and you lift your gaze to meet his troubled one and you know, instantly, that he really means it.

“___,” he softly calls your name, dropping all formalities to regain his role as best friend, “I know how hard it is for you and I swear if I could, I’d change everything.”

You nod your head ‘yes’ and a few tears escape your control, falling down your warm face to reach your trembling lips.

“Now, now,” he says, gathering every last drop with his index finger, caressing your skin as he does so to soothe you further, “We wouldn’t want to make Prince Charming see us like this, would we?” He cocks his head to the side and you chuckle in response.

“Don’t call him that,” you scold him, sniffing loudly as you gain back the control over your emotions.

“Why? Isn’t it true?” he laughs as you elbow his side and you find yourself smiling in return.

“There,” he says, nodding his head to himself, “Now I recognize my beautiful Princess.”

You roll your eyes at his remark but you know it comes from a good place and, for the second time that day, you find yourself thinking how lucky you must be to have such amazing friends in your life.

Just as you think that, the frantic voice of Eunbi — in the form of your name —  echoes through the vast corridor.

“Princess!” she is breathless as she bursts inside the room and for a moment you think something bad must have happened but she points at your attire, gasping for air and you roll your eyes to the ceiling, “We have to get you ready for the party, it’s so late!”

Of course, fashion would be a top priority for Jung EunBi.

“I thought I was already dressed for the night?” you ask, still letting her drag you through the Castle and back to your chambers.

“Don’t be ridiculous, that was just child’s play,” she briefly turns toward you, a wicked smile on her lips, “I’m going to turn you in the most beautiful woman this land has ever seen.”

You laughed at that as she said it, rolling your eyes to the ceiling at her antics but, now that you are looking inside the mirror, all you can do is stare at yourself, mouth slightly agape in utter bewilderment because you can hardly believe the girl right in front of you is actually, well, you.

Long lashes adorn your eyes making them pop on your radiant face, coral pink tints your cheeks and lips and periwinkle dust gleams all over your features and exposed shoulders. Your crown of twisted twigs and thorns with silver roses shines atop your head, playing nicely with the lilac lights the Castle is endowed with and making you look as much of a Fae as EunBi herself.

The dress she has made specifically for you is breathtaking and it is the most beautiful gown you have ever had the privilege to wear. The skirt is big and made out of layers upon layers of organza, the color as blue as the deep sea and the night sky and it brings back memories of the previous night and the scenery out of your window. Small stones of silver are scattered along the top half of the skirt giving a fading out effect and they remind you of the shining stars in the sky, the ones you stared at wondering if your Prince was thinking of you.

The corset, tight around your body with a heart shape is entirely covered in silver glitters and stones and it hugs your breasts, cupping them closer to both secure them and make them look bigger.

"This is stunning, EunBi," you mutter, under your breath as you take one last look at yourself.

Her smile is full of contentment and she clasps her hands together, her eyes shining with adoration.

"Nobody will be able to focus on anything else but you tonight, Princess!" She squeals, taking your hands in hers to give them a little squeeze, "Even the Prince's eyes will be all yours, I'm sure of it."

The sole mention of the Prince is enough to make your heart go rampant in your chest and you smile widely in return before kissing her on the cheek.

"Thank you, my dear friend."

There is more in those words than what they look like but, of course, EunBi has no idea yet of your final departure approaching faster and faster as the hours tick by. That 'thank you' is for all the years spent together, for all the times she lifted up your mood and for all the beautiful dresses she made for you, for all the night she spent at your side talking about nothing and everything at the same time. Ultimately, for just being your friend.

Without adding a single word you turn your back on her and it almost feels like betraying her or stab her in the back and, with a heavy heart, you walk the long corridor to the ballroom.

By the time you arrive inside the Castle's most beautiful room, at least in your own personal opinion, you have calmed the beating of your heart and the swirling of your thoughts, adamant about living your last night at the Fae Court as if it's not the last one at all.

Columns of beige marble divide the center stage from the more private areas — designed for eating and mingling — and you walk between their shadows, catching glimpses of people you know with only one goal in mind: find the Prince. The dancefloor is illuminated by a big chandelier right at the center of the room, the light cast underneath it a pretty shade of lilac and it is right there, almost at the perfect center of the tiled floor, that you see him for the first time in months.

Jimin, the Fae Prince, is as beautiful as he always appears to be inside your dreams.

Hair of silver adorn his head, swiped back to reveal his forehead and the gentle gaze of his impossibly blue eyes. A small smile graces his plump rosy lips, looking so inviting even from afar, and his head is tilted to the side as he scans the room, probably — and your heart squeezes at the thought — looking for you.

As you look at him from afar you are reminded of the very first time your eyes laid on him. It was barely five years ago and you were both at the ripe age of fifteen — meaning, you were now old enough to attend Counsels held between your Kingdoms and to be appointed as ambassadors.

The Fae Land had been scary at first and the Prince had seemed unattainable, a creature far too different from your kind to befriend. Of course, you had been wrong.

The Prince had always been soft and gentle with you. He would show you simple magic tricks to charm you and then ask the most random questions about your kingdom and the human race. He, much like his father, knew how to weave people in, how to make everybody love him and, in no time, you had fallen for him hard.

Five years now from that day, you're still amazed and scared by how impossibly handsome he looks and your heart, right the second his gazes focuses on you, starts beating faster in your chest.

It feels like thousands of butterflies have awoken in your stomach, their wings fluttering incessantly inside of you as you watch him turn his body towards you and walk through the room to reach you.

The smile on his lips has widened and his eyes almost disappear as his full cheeks rise up with the corners of his mouth. You feel the blood rush to your face and you have to look down at your feet to calm your breath and not make a complete fool out of yourself.

"Princess," his mellow voice calls your name and you lift your chin up, your eyes focusing on his intense gaze.

His warm hand reaches for yours and he briefly kisses the back of your hand, eyes unwavering from your face.

"My Prince," you whisper back, your knees bending slightly in a little curtsy.

"You look absolutely breathtaking tonight," his voice seems at ease as he speaks those words but the roses tinting his cheeks suggest the timidity behind them.

"Thank you, Prince," you smile at him as you feel your body warm up as if it wants to combust into flames entirely on its own accord, "You look handsome as always," you cannot help the way your voice falters as you pronounce those words and your heart leaps in your chest as his smile widens further.

"You flatter me, Princess."

"Maybe," you concede, "Doesn't mean that I'm lying."

He hums, stepping to your side to give you his arm, ready to walk you around the great hall and you happily comply, linking your arm around his.

"My Father has prepared quite the show for you tonight, Princess."

"So I was told," you hum slightly nodding your head, "Something special to celebrate tonight?" You take a glance at your side, studying his features but he keeps looking straight ahead, expression calm and relaxed.

"Not really," he cocks his head to the side and smiles to himself, "Well, it was your twentieth birthday last month and we couldn't throw the party we would have wanted to back then, so..." his voice trails off and you stop in your tracks, turning your body towards him.

"Wait, this is in my honor?!" You can't help the way your voice raises at least two octaves and he looks at you with mirth in his eyes.

"When isn't one of our parties not in your honor, Princess?"

Of course, he is speaking the truth but your mouth hangs stupidly open thinking about the entire Fae Court here for you, to celebrate your birthday as if you're one of their kind.

"I..." you pause, shaking your head in bewilderment, "I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything," he says, stepping closer so he can put his hand on your shoulder, "Just enjoy your special night."

There are many things you'd like to say right at this moment. Even the hurtful truth. But a calling of your name stops the words from leaving your mouth and you turn around: Jeongguk and Taehyung are approaching you through the crowd of people. The two little Princes look as dazzling as their older brother tonight and you bow in respect as the enthusiastically compliment your outfit for the night.

The two younger brothers have grown a lot in the last couple of months and they have long surpassed the Crown Prince in height but, as beautiful as they can be, Jimin's beauty has no rivals and you can tell a lot of women, and men, share your exact thoughts by the way they drink up the Prince’s appearance whenever he is close enough to be discretely admired.

You walk around the hall for a few minutes, smiling and entertaining small conversations with the Fae you encounter on your path, the little Princes tagging along as puppies would and you find your mind drifting off to thoughts you had promised yourself to keep pushing away, at least for this one night.

Your grip around the Crown Prince’s arm unconsciously tightens and he halts his movements, tilting his head to the side to look at you.

“Something wrong, Princess?” He asks, voice soft with concern and you feel his intense gaze studying your features attentively, ready to capture every small movement, “You look a little pale,” he notices, turning completely towards you so he can face you, “We should probably sit down for a bit.”

“No, it’s ok! I’m ok,” you answer back, shaking your head as you force a smile upon your lips.

He stays silent for a moment, definitely not oblivious of the fact that humans, unlike Fae, can indeed lie and you just did exactly that. You are sure he has noticed but, even if he did, he decides not to address the matter further and simply nods, regaining his position at your side.

For a while all there is left between you two is utter silence, not even the Princes dare to say a single word, and your heart gets smaller and smaller with every passing second.

It is with immense relief that you welcome the sound of the trumpets, breaking the mild chattering of the room in an instant. It is the signal of the arrival of the King and Queen and the imminent start of the awaited show.

The King’s eyes train on the small crowd, his lips curved in a fond smile, until they find his sons’ and, quickly after, yours. He bows his head in your direction and you bend yours in return while keeping your eyes trained on his figure. His skin seems to glow tonight under the lilac lights and his golden and burgundy attire bring out not only his charismatic feline eyes but also the chiseled cheeks and the shimmering glitters glistening on his plump lips.

The Queen by his side is as beautiful as she has always been: eyes azure like the prettiest lake in the Land, hair curly and soft the color of melted chocolate, skin a beautiful shade of caramel twinkling with golden sparkles.

Her powers shine all around her in beautiful shades of raspberry and mauve and you find yourself holding your breath as she walks right past you, smiling in your direction as she joins her husband on their thrones.

She is absolutely blinding tonight and in her beauty, you recognize the one of the Prince. He is like a winter night and she is like an autumn day yet he has the nice shape of her eyes, the small nose and the plump lips and the same curve of the smile.

“Come, Princess, the show is about to commence,” Jimin’s voice comes in a swift whisper close to your ear and you turn towards him. His face is impossibly close to yours and your noses brush together as you tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze.

The contact is brief because he draws back instantly but a spark of electricity runs through your body nonetheless and you feel goosebumps appear all over your exposed skin.

For a feeble moment you think you caught a glimpse of that same electricity sparkling inside his eyes but if it were there it is now gone. Still, your heart leaps in your chest because of it.

You follow the Crown Prince through the hall and take your seat right next to him whilst the lights dim down, setting the atmosphere for the show. In those five years you spent within the Court you have witnessed magic at its finest whether through music or dancing or even silly magic tricks to entertain, mostly, the human guests.

This time, it is different. It’s the last show you’ll ever see and it is one made specifically for you and you have no idea what to expect.

The room is blanketed in utter silence and thick with the blackness of the night and you almost jump on your sit at the blazing lights appear in front of your eyes. They shine in shades of deep orange and sparkling gold, mimicking the flickering of a fire but exploding like fireworks.

You cannot see the Faes behind the magic but only their hands, tracing patterns in the space between you and the stage. The lights seem to be alive, like they have their own body and their own free will.

Your mouth falls agape as the words “Happy Birthday Princess”  flicker in front of your eyes and your bottom lip trembles, a sob menacing to come out of your mouth because it is beautiful and it is all for you.

The warm hand of the Prince takes hold of yours, resting on your lap, and you turn toward him, studying his expression. He is still looking forward, the lights dancing on his angelic features and you hold your breath, squeezing his hand lightly. The smile that stretches on his mouth next is not a feeble imagination because instead of disappearing, like the spark in his eyes, it stays fixed there and your heart leaps with profound happiness.

The music blasts behind your backs and you focus your gaze back on the stage before you just in time to see the words fade into the blackness. The room is suddenly engulfed by blazing light and you’re forced to close your eyes to sustain the sudden change and, when you open them, you find fire erupting from every corner of the big hall, the precise work of half-naked jugglers floating up to the ceiling with torches flying between their hands. They have bodies that resemble statues and skin of melted gold and you find yourself unable to look away as the flames dance above your head, their powers melting and mixing together like the colors of the rainbow. It is like nothing you have ever seen and it is a spectacle of such beauty you find tears brimming in your eyes.

“Do you like it, Princess?”

The hot breath of the Prince hits the skin of your neck, right at the juncture under your lobe, and goosebumps gather anew on your skin, your throat suddenly dry with the unexpected closeness of his presence. The Prince has always been affectionate in both his words and his gestures but there is something so different about tonight, about the way he looks at you and touches you. And it elates your heart as much as it scares it away because those feelings, yours and possibly his, have no future ahead.

“It’s beautiful,” you mutter, wetting your lips as you turn to face his intense gaze. His blue eyes have shifted and just like his father’s they are now like opals, shining brightly and shifting color depending on the light cast on them. It is a sight that locks you into place and from which you cannot look away.

He smiles at you, happiness seeping through every pore of his body, and you smile in return despite the feeling of your heart shattering inside your chest.

“I’m glad you like it,” he says, turning towards the stage in front of you, “I was afraid you wouldn’t like the show I prepared for you,” he looks at you from the corner of his eyes and your brows knit together in confusion. You thought the King was behind every show you ever witnessed, not the Prince.

“I wanted it to be special and I wanted to do something for you,” he explains, his voice turning smaller as embarrassment tints his cheeks red, “I realized I never gave you a birthday present before.”

You look at him astonished, body turning towards him as you slightly shake your head.

“I don’t know what to say, my Prince,” you whisper, struggling to find the right words to convey your emotions, “I don’t even think I deserve any of this,” you gesture at the whole hall and the people there celebrating you, not to mention the entire show and he shakes his head too, his grip on your hand tightening while he does so.

“You deserve more than you imagine,” he whispers in return, voice so small you’re not sure you caught the words right.

“I...” your bottom lip quivers and you have to look away as you pronounce the next words, “I will never forget this.” Your eyes are shining with unshed tears and you turn towards him, your free hand about to rest on his warm cheek. It looks like he’s going to say something back when the music stops and everyone around you stand from their seats, cheering for the artists.

You quickly let go of the Prince’s hand and rise on your legs, following everybody else’s applause while smiling profusely at the Fae bowing for their crowd.

The music is loud in your ears as you spin and turn to the tempo, a laugh escaping your lips as you can barely catch your breath and the warm hands of the youngest Fae Prince, Jeongguk. Your mind is slightly inebriated with the aftermath of consuming Fae beer: a peculiar mixture of raspberry and mint flavor. The sweetness of the drinks is still on your tongue and you keep savoring it every time you lick your lips or talk to your partner for the next few moments.

The youngest Prince is smiling down at you, teeth in full display and you find yourself noticing for the first time how absolutely adorable he looks, even in his very matured body.

“Are you having fun, Princess?” He asks above the cacophony of music and people screaming at each other and you nod in return, exhilaration overcoming.

“I think I may be a little bit drunk!” You scream back, giggles escaping your mouth right after and he laughs at you, his grasp on your hips soft as he prepares to hand you to the next partner.

Spin and turn.

The strong hands of an elder Fae are holding you next, he has a sweet smile and eyes glinting with amusement.

“Do you have parties like this in the Human Kingdom?” He asks, mirth in his eyes because he probably already knows the answers.

“Oh my... I wish!”

Spin and turn.

The King holds you steadily in his arms and he looks down at you as if you were the daughter he never had and your heart warms up with affection.

“I’m glad you’re enjoying your birthday party, my dear.” He says, his lips curved into a smile.

“Oh, I am, my King!” Your excitement makes your voice ring loud on the dance floor and he laughs at you more out of amusement than out of humor.

“Good, that’s all I wanted for you.”

He looks at you and a shadow seems to pass on his features and you almost stop on your tracks. A part of you wonders if the King already knows. If the secret is only for the Court and the Princes. If it is, a part of you feels relieved because that’s one less talk you have to face.

Spin and turn.

His touch is tender and his gaze is soft and you find yourself staring in the deep pools of Yoongi’s eyes. He greets you with a gummy smile stretched on his angelic features and it feels like a homecoming after a long day.

It is warm and easy, it’s familiar and sweet and it immediately soothes your bothered heart. In the span of the few moments you pass between your friend’s arm, all thoughts about the King are gone and laugh returns on your mouth.

Spin and turn.

Your cheeks feel hot to the touch and sweat has started gathering on your skin. You have a hard time catching your breath and you can barely look your partner in the eyes before you’re sent off to the next one in line.

Spin and turn.

Your lids are half-closed as you catch your breath but as soon as his fingers interlace with yours you know it’s him. The Prince is laughing when you open your eyes and if your heart could beat any faster right now, it would.

“I think I’ll pass out soon,” you say, laughing as he guides you through the steps now that your legs are starting to feel like jelly.

“You should take a break when the song finishes,” he says, chuckling at your sudden confession.

“I think I will. I feel a little bit tipsy... don’t you?”

“Fae do not get drunk,” he reminds you and you roll your eyes to the ceiling recalling the one time you got totally drunk and embarrassed yourself in front of everyone.

“Right,” you pout and he lets go of your hands, passing you to your other partner.

Spin and turn.

It feels like you have been dancing for years but you keep going and going until your feet are screaming for mercy and you’re sure this is a night you will never forget, a night you have lived to its fullest.

You walk to one of the balconies, welcoming the fresh breeze of the summer night and you inhale deeply, finally catching your breath.

The garden almost looks like a silver lake, the moonlight shining on the plants as if they were made of glass and, for a moment, you think they may actually be considering how the Castle itself looks.

“Do you want to be alone?”

His voice is mellow and you immediately turn to catch him staring at you, his shoulder resting on the porch and it makes you wonder how long has he been there, drinking up the sight of you.

“No, of course not,” you smile at him, chin tilting upwards to fix on the night sky, “I was just catching my breath.”

He hums in return and walks to stand right next to you, his gaze following yours as silence engulfs you.

You don’t know how much you stay like this, standing next to each other without the need for a single word but you feel him shift right next to you and you peel off your gaze from the scenery to glue it on him.

His hand is searching for yours and you let him hold it in his again, relishing in the warmness of his touch.

“It’s lovely, isn’t it?” You look at your hands intertwined and you’re about to say yes when he looks ahead, “The moonlight makes everything seem more magical, doesn’t it?”

You can pretend on the outside his words didn’t disappoint you but you cannot stop the pang in your heart as you realize that very different thoughts were swirling inside the Prince’s head. For a moment you feel juvenile and stupid because even if he were to reciprocate your feelings, like you suspected all night, he still wouldn’t be able to act upon them.

“Next time you come here to the Court it will be Fall,” he says out of the blue, eyes brimming with excitement as he turns towards you, “We planted Orange Woodbine all around the Castle, it will be so beautiful, I’m sure you’ll love it.”

You can picture it perfectly: the flower’s petals of a deep orange, the center a bright red and thousands upon thousands of those flowers creating a carpet of beautiful warm colors, melting together. A sight you’ll never see.

Your heart squeeze in your chest and you realize this is it. This is the moment you say it because you will never get a better chance. There is no better because no moment will be able to ease the pain that will come with the truth.

“Prince...” you whisper, voice caught in your throat as you try to find the right words to tell him, “This... this is my last time here.”

He looks at you, utterly confused by your sudden statement and you watch him turn his body towards you, his gaze unwavering as he studies you, trying to catch a sign of a bluff in your features.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m... My sister Tzuyu will take my place as the next ambassador. She turns fifteen in a month.”

“Why?” His other hand grasps your own and you can see the various emotions swirling inside his eyes: confusion, bewilderment, betrayal.

“A week from now I will be leaving my home to go to the Uwruvine Empire,” your voice becomes a soft whisper as each word escapes your mouth but you do say them, the words that leave a bitter taste behind, “I will marry the Elves’ King.”

It almost feels like a stone falling on your heart the instant you say that because, admitting it out loud makes them all the more true. There is no more room for pretending it won’t happen. No hope. And it is not fair for you but it is not fair to King Jaejoong either. He is, much like the Fae King, a merciful and gentle man. He is only ten years older than you with hair of honey and eyes like chocolate. You are lucky because you know you will be treated right and, eventually, you will live a happy life. But now, with love twisting your thoughts, it looks like a death sentence.

His face is paler now, under the moonlight, and his eyes are shining but not with the happiness you saw in them the entire night. It’s the exact opposite. It’s devastation.

“But why...” he wets his lips, his voice raw as if he is struggling to keep his emotions at bay, “Why won’t you be coming back even if you marry him?”

You understand the desperation in his voice, the need to find at least a shred of hope in all of this and you hate, you absolutely despise the fact that you have to shatter it over and over again until all that remains is pain and defeat.

“I’ll be the Queen of the Elves,” you mutter, your eyes focusing on your hands, still interlaced with his own.

“So what? You’ll be the Queen of the Humans too, one day!” His lips are trembling, you know that because you can hear it in his voice and the more he talks, the sicker you feel.

“But that day is not today, and certainly not in a week and when I will be the Queen of the Humans I’ll have children that will take the ambassador title.” ”Don’t say that,” he spats, suddenly leaving your hands to take a step back.

“What?”

You lift your gaze and focus it on the Prince and his pain hits you with the force of a hurricane. He’s grabbing his hair so tight you fear he may pluck some off, and he’s looking at anywhere but you, trying to make sense of all of this.

“Don’t say that you’ll marry another man and have kids with him,” he says, his voice broken as the first tears stream down his cheeks, “I thought that man was going to be me one day.” His voice is small as he says so and it wrenches your heart out because he has loved you all these years just like you loved him and it was impossible the whole time.

“I wanted it to be you, too” The first sob escapes your mouth and tears quickly follow until you’re a weeping mess, just like him.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks, almost outraged, as he grabs your hands in his again, searching for your eyes.

“Why didn’t you?”

You watch his mouth part but no sounds come out because, of course, Fae cannot lie. He didn’t say anything because he couldn’t, because Fae do not mingle with Humans, they never had and they never will.

You nod your head as he falls silent and you weep together as he caresses your cheeks, unable to look away from you now that he knows these, right here, are the last moments you’ll ever spend together.

“I can’t let you go,” he whimpers, shaking his head over and over again and you cry harder, hating yourself from doing this to him, hating your father for doing this to you, hating destiny for doing this to the both of you.

“My Prince,” he gathers all your tears with his thumbs and it breaks you even further until you think you’ll never be able to be whole again, “Please, don’t make it harder than it is. You have to let me go, now.” Your words are harsh and broken and you hate to pronounce them but if you stay a minute longer you’re sure nothing of you will be there to salvage in the morning. If ever.

You leave him there, alone and broken on the balcony, with tears falling on his cheeks and pain twisting his features and every step you take feels like a bone is snapping out of your body.

You are gasping, crying and shaking by the time you have reached your room and a scream shatters the silence of the empty chamber. It keeps coming out of you on and on until your throat is raw and your voice is gone and soft arms are embracing you, cradling you to calm you down.

“What’s wrong, Princess? What’s wrong?” It’s the soft voice of EunBi that calls your name and your lips start to quiver uncontrollably as you realize you have to relive it all. You have to say those awful words again. But you can’t. You can’t do that again, not tonight.

“You told him...” you tilt your head upwards and you find Yoongi standing there, watching you falling apart on the floor in the arms of a servant and he instantly knows. Of course he does.

There is no need for words on your part, all it takes is a look and he’s on his knees, hugging you close to his chest.

“EunBi,” you croak out, your hands in small fists behind your friend’s back.

“Yes, my Lady?”

“I’m sorry... I’m so sorry...” the sobs come rushing again, stealing your breath away, making you nauseous to the point you feel like you’re going to be sick.

“EunBi, I hate to be the one telling you this,” Yoongi intercedes for you, his grip around you tightening further, “But she won’t be able to...” his voice drifts off as he cradles you in his arms, trying to soothe you as if you are a baby having a fit.

“What is it, my Lord?” Eunbi asks, and you can sense the fear in her voice and you hate it, you hate it, you hate it.

“The Princess will be marrying the Elves’ King in a week,” he kisses your head at that, a reassuring gesture that stops the quivering of your body, “And she won’t be able to come back here in the future. This is a goodbye.”

You feel the tears of EunBi falling on her face without even looking at her, you feel her heart break and the way she takes in air like it’s the most difficult thing.

“P-princess...” Her arms are what comes next and you find yourself engulfed between four arms and yet, even though you love them, they are neither the pair you’d need the most right now.

You have no words of consolations for EunBi, you can’t even thank her for being a friend, for being a loyal servant, for everything. But a part of you hopes she knows. She has to know.

“How is the Prince?” she asks, after a while, and the sole mention of his name is enough for havoc to explode inside your heart.

It all comes back to you: the broken and raw whispers, the hot tears, the desperation twisting his features.

You scream again, the strangled sound coming out of you muffled by Yoongi’s chest and you fight against the sadness and the pain but it is unbearable, no matter how many sweet words they whisper in your ears.

The next thing you know is the pitch black and the sound of a familiar voice screaming your name.

Everything is wrapped in a haze of mist and confused memories, you feel like you’re stuck in cotton candy and can hardly hear the faint whispers of people around you or the warm hands that touch your forehead, your cheeks, your hands.

Your eyes flutter open from time to time and you can make out the worried expression on EunBi's face or, alternatively, Yoongi's but it is hard to wake up, to fight back the dizziness and speak up.

When you open your eyes again in what feels like million years after, you feel groggy and still slightly unfocused.

Eunbi and Yoongi are both at your side, watching you, and you force a smile on your lips as you take notice of your surroundings.

The first thing you notice is that you're inside your bed, under the covers, and the beautiful dress you wore to the ball is now gone, replaced by your soft nightgown.

"What happened?" you ask and your throat scratches painfully as you do so, a nice reminder that you screamed yourself not too long ago.

"You passed out," whispers Yoongi, caressing your forehead gently, his eyes dark with concern.

"I'm sorry I scared you," you say back, taking his hand into yours and he nods, giving you a soft smile in return.

"It's fine," he says, caressing your cheek, "As long as you're ok."

You nod your head ‘yes’ even though you are far from being ok and, you suspect, it will take quite some time for you to feel like you are again.

"You should rest, you're tired." He says, voice gentle but still laced with concern and you nod your head. You know he also means that you’ll have an early departure in the morning but he doesn't speak those words out loud because he knows, he'll break your heart all over again if he does.

His lips are warm and gentle as he places a chaste kiss on your forehead and you close your eyes, already feeling the grip of Morpheus holding you down until your mind is drifting into a dreamless sleep.

Your heart hammers in your chest, your breath is heavy and your body is shivering uncontrollably. For a moment you sit there, on your bed, trying to recall the nightmare you must have had for waking up with such a start but, when the sound of knuckles knocking of your door comes again, you realize it was that sound that forced you out of your slumber and not a bad dream.

You breathe in, looking around the room as if you’re registering your surroundings for the first time because, for a few seconds, you fear it may be already morning and you have to say your final goodbyes now. But your eyes tell a very different story: there is only darkness all around you which means, it is still the middle of the night.

With that knowledge, you force yourself to stand up from the bed and reach the door with quick steps to yank it open.

There, standing on your doorstep, is the Prince himself.

"Prince?"

His eyes retain nothing of the luminous light they usually have, they are almost black and sad, so sad, and bloodshot red as if he’s been crying for hours now. Your insides clench at the mere sight and you wish you had nice words to tell him right now, something to make it all better but you don't.

"I can't let you go," he whispers, his voice trembling as he steps forwards with trembling hands that are unsure whether to touch you or not.

The new proximity of his body makes you notice the stench of alcohol and you look at him confused. The Prince doesn’t disdain a drink or two but he never reeked of alcohol before and it looks like he has tried to drown his sorrow in the activity, even though the bliss of a drunk state is not conceded to the Fae race.

"Please, my Prince," you whisper, dragging him inside your room before anyone can see him in this desperate state and, as soon as the door is closed behind his back, his strong arms engulf you into a hug.

"I can't stand it, ____. I can't."

It is the first time he has ever called you by your given name and not your royal title. You had fantasized so many times about this moment, on how your name would sound coming from his mouth but, now that it is laced with anguish, you find yourself hating it with every fiber in your body.

"Jimin," you whimper in return, hugging him closer to your chest whilst hot tears warm up your shoulder. Feeling him like this, crying in your embrace, is too much for you to handle and soon, you're crying too. No, you're mourning.

He untangles from you and his hands are quickly on your cheeks, brushing the tears away as he shakes his head.

“Don’t cry, please, don’t cry.”

You sniff loudly and your bottom lip quivers but still, you push the tears back and do your best to keep them sealed inside your eyes. It feels like a losing battle but, if you can do something for him, no matter how small, you’ll do it. At least tonight.

“I know I can’t change anything, I know I can’t stop you from going away, from... leaving me,” his face twists at that, his voice breaking and you nod your head ‘yes’ because it’s the truth, there is nothing that can be done, “But I wanted to... I wanted to know what it would be like.”

You look up to him confused as he leans forward and, unexpectedly, his lips briefly touch yours, the kiss full of uncertainty and yet enough to spark up electricity within you.

Your arms move behind his neck to pull him closer and you fingers lose themselves in the tangles of his hair as you drag him down. The touch of his mouth is soft and intoxicating and he kisses you fervently, almost desperately, and you open your mouth for him, welcoming him the swift movement of his tongue and with it, the raspberry and mint flavor of the Fae beer laced with honey. It is inebriating.

Kissing a Fae feels completely different from kissing a human: it is magical and you can feel his power seeping through your pores, conquering you from within and intoxicating your mind to the point you start believing you could levitate now, if only you’d wish for it.

It is like being scattered, pulled from within and then recomposed, turned into something brand new and all of these feelings all at once leaves you utterly breathless.

When your eyes open you find him at you, his forehead pressed against yours and all the love he has concealed over the past five years is now brimming in those beautiful eyes, now shining as they always did before tonight and the sight warms up your broken heart.

“The thought of him kissing you like I did just now is unbearable,” he confesses in a breath, closing his eyes as he clenches his jawline.

“Jimin...” You caress his cheek with one of your hands and he exhales loudly, opening his eyes again.

“I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t say this.” He shakes his head and brand new tears stain his cheeks, the light in his eyes gone as soon as it appeared.

“I’m sorry for hurting you. I never wanted this to happen. I...” You gulp down heavily, your throat tight with grief and the desperate need to cry.

“Shh, it’s not your fault,” he quickly says, kissing your lips softly to gulp down your sob, “It’s nobody’s fault.”

You nod at that because it is the honest truth. There is nobody you can hate for it besides destiny and that, if possible, makes it all the more intolerable because there is no enemy to defeat, no war to win and therefore no hope for a brighter future.

“I didn’t come here for this,” he says, caressing your face, “I came here because I wanted to be with you, like a couple.”

“Jimin,” you look into his eyes, shaking your head but he silences you, his finger tracing your lips.

“Just for one night,” he says, “I want to be yours just for one night.”

You should say no to that, you should push him away because these memories right here will haunt you forever but how? How can you say no when you have the chance of knowing what it would be like? How can you say no when all you ever wanted is right in front of you? How can you say now when it’s Jimin? You simply can’t.

“Ok,” you whisper, bumping your nose against his before placing a soft kiss atop his lips and he smiles. For the first time since you told him about your marriage, he smiles. And that, right there, is all you could ask for right now.

He takes your hand in his and he drags you out of your room and it doesn’t even matter that somebody could see you, that you’re not even dressed properly, all it matters is you and him, together, living your dream even if only for a single night.

You walk with him for long minutes that feel like seconds and you wish you could stop time, you wish you could have him like this for all eternity and just be happy.

His eyes shine brightly every time they look at you and his cheeks get rosy every time you lean forward and kiss his lips. It is, really, a dream and even better. Your imagination couldn’t have topped the reality, not even if you tried.

“Do you remember that one time I told you I had a secret place?” He asks, mirth ringing in his voice as he turns towards you and you simply nod, recalling that sweet memory from four years ago when a younger and more playful Jimin teased you to no end with a place you later believed to be fictitious and a phantom of his own imagination.

“I thought it didn’t exist?” You ask, tilting your head to the side and he chuckles, shaking his head slightly.

“It does. I’m taking you there right now.”

You follow him as he increases his speed and you trail off behind him, chuckling at his antics. Jimin turned out to be a posed Prince, very mature and well-mannered but it is heart-warming to see him be his past self. Deep down, he’s still that kid that used to mock you, show you magic and tell you stories in the night, even the scary ones. No, especially the scary ones.

His secret place is within the Castle’s garden, you realize, and its guarded by tall climbing plants, their leaves an emerald green shining even the night.

It seems completely closed off, like a wall made out by nature itself but Jimin pushes the branches outward and you follow him past the intricate branches.

His secret place, this secret garden held inside the Castle’s walls, is absolutely stunning. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the blinding light of the moon, shining like a brand new kind of sun inside this small heaven.

There is a small waterfall right at the center of the little garden and it pools into a smaller version of the Castle’s lake, shining like melted silver.

The grass under your feet is soft and of an impossible green but it appears to be only a carpet for thousands upon thousands of bright pink flowers. They resemble roses but there is what appears to be lilac nectar coming out of them and they look almost made out of pure glass.

“These are Swamp Roses,” he says, following your gaze and picking one up in his fingers, “Have you ever tasted them?”

You shake your head no and he squeezes the flower in his hand, his fingers ghosting over your mouth as you promptly part your lips to let the juice fall on your tongue. The taste takes you by surprise and it is not what you were expecting at all. It is sweet as a strawberry but sour like a lemon and it’s warm like a hot chocolate but pleasant like a summer breeze.

“It tastes differently for everyone,” he says, licking the juice left on his fingers — an action that doesn’t fall unnoticed.

“What does it taste like for you?”

“It tastes like the sweetest chocolate during winter time, and like the fresh watermelon in the summer, sometimes it tastes like honey and butter but today it tasted just like you.”

You feel yourself blush and you have to divert your gaze, biting your bottom lip to suppress an embarrassed giggle.

“This place is beautiful,” you say, quickly changing the subject to something more comfortable as you lift your gaze up to the big tree next to the waterfall. Birds the color of fire sing in the silence, tweeting on the small branches and the scent of peach you always thought you could smell inside the Palace overwhelms your senses. It came from here, you realize, and it makes you look up at the Prince again.

“Nobody knows of this place?”

“Father knows, he showed this to me when I was a kid,” he says, a fond smile on his lips as he recalls sweet memories from the past, “And I came here every time I wanted to be alone or escape from my duties or just to... think, I suppose.”

“Why are you showing it to me now?” You question, thinking back of all the times you asked him to take you here before deciding it wasn’t real but only a way to tease you.

“Because...” his voice turns small and he takes your hands in his, caressing the back with his thumbs, “I want to share everything I ever owned with you.”

“Jimin,” you lift your chin upwards and he kisses you right away, already accustomed to the silent requests of your body and once again it is sweet but laced with passion and desperate need.

“I love the sound of my name on your lips,” he says, leaving your lips to look inside your eyes.

“Jimin,” you whisper again and he kisses you promptly, though too briefly. His lips are already swollen and red like cherries but they look even more delectable so you whisper his name again.

Jimin. He kisses you and it tastes like sugar on your tongue and you keep wanting more.

Jimin. His hands cup your face and drag it closer as he kisses you breathless, tongue encircling yours. Fireworks explode in your heart.

Jimin. Jimin. Jimin.

You are both panting when he leaves your mouth and you rest your head on his chest as he holds you closer. You relish in the steady pumps of his heartbeat and you close your eyes, feeling at peace for the first time in months.

Inside Jimin’s strong arms nothing can hurt you, nothing can even reach you, and everything is perfect and possible. For the second time, tonight, you wish you were born with the ability to stop time so you could be held like this now and forever.

“I’d give anything to stay like this for the rest of our lives.”

“____,” he whispers and you lift your head up to catch his gaze but his eyes are closed and his eyebrows are knitted and you can only imagine the hard time he must be having right now, containing his bitter thoughts because he doesn’t want to ruin this magical moment, taint it with the sadness of your departure.

“I want to make you mine,” he struggles to say those words but when he opens his beautiful eyes and you can see the desire in them all you can do is draw him closer and kiss him anew.

“I’ll be yours forever,” you whisper atop his lips and it’s like something ignites inside of him because next thing you know is that you’re lifted from the ground, your legs encircling his hips and he is kissing you like his whole life depends on it, like he’s a dying man and you’re his only chance at survival.

“Jimin,” you softly call his name and he lifts his gaze, hooded with desire, to meet yours and you nod your head ‘yes’ to express your equal yearning for closeness.

Without uttering a single word he puts you down on your feet before dragging you down to the ground right next to the waterfall.

The grass beneath your body is as soft as you imagined it to be and the flowers function as a cushion under your head and you can only imagine how you two look like now, getting undressed inside a heaven like this. Surely, it is the most romantic setting you could ever wish for. A perfect place for a perfect first time together. A moment you will never forget.

You watch him get out of his clothes slowly, gaze unwavering from you, and you hold your breath as the moon shines above his skin. Much like his mother, he glistens under the direct light and it’s a beautiful shade of light purple that draws you in to the point you can’t look away from him.

His skin appears to be soft and tender to the touch but firm where his muscles are. He is sculpted like a statue and you can hardly wait to put your fingers on him, to feel him pressed against your body and make him yours.

His lips come first, kissing you for the thousandth time that night but your hands are quick to reach for every inch of his body you can access, caressing every part of him that you can, almost as if you’re trying to burn your digits onto his skin for everyone else that will come after you to know. He was yours now, he was going to be yours forever.

“You are so beautiful, my love,” he says and you can’t stop your heart from jolting in your chest at the little nickname. You never knew words could sound so sweet.

“You are perfect,” you answer back, fingers sweeping his hair away from his forehead so you can drink up every detail of his features, impress them in your mind so you never forget how he looked like in this very moment.

He smiles and his eyes glint with happiness and you hold him closer for long minutes before his fingers start undressing you, unlacing the front of your nightgown with slow movements. His eyes watch your face and then the fast rise of your chest as he frees your breasts from their confinement.

Your breath hitches as his lips kiss the supple expanse of your chest, inch by inch as if he’s mapping it down with his mouth.

A soft sigh escapes your mouth at the first touch of his tongue and your eyes close as utter bliss expands within your stomach.

Jimin’s touch is soft yet electrifying, it’s everywhere you desire it to be but it makes you beg for more and more; it is absolutely intoxicating.

Your nightgown is gathered at your hips as he drags his mouth downward, kissing your ribs and then small of your abdomen. Little fireworks bloom on your skin, scorching it hot with desired and titillating it with their touch. You do not know if it is his magic on his fingertips of if it’s all because of the deep love within your heart but one thing you do know: you have never felt like this before.

You lift your hips as his hands drag down the soft fabric of your gown. The summer breeze hits your skin covering it with goosebumps while Jimin stares down at you and your new-found nudity.

His red and swollen lips are glistening with all the open kisses he planted on your stomach, his hair is ruffled from the way you kept tugging on the strands all night and his eyes are shining in the night and now, in this very moment, with the waterfall splashing water right next to him, he looks like a deity you’d gladly sacrifice your life for.

“I want to remember you just like this,” he whispers, his fingers tracing the outline of your breasts and abdomen and further down your hips, caressing every inch in his view.

You feel your skin become hotter under his intense gaze, timidity surfacing in your conscience yet, you do nothing to cover yourself, in fact, you arch your back allowing him to look at your body better because, egoistically, you do want him to remember you forever, you do want to be his first thought in the morning and the last one when he falls asleep for the rest of his life. You want all of these things because you know there is no way you will ever forget him or this very moment.

You lift your back from the grass and with hesitant fingers, you work the button of his pants and he lets you, breath hitching every time your hands brush against his abdomen.

His pants come off under your touch and you fix your gaze on him, staring into his eyes as he completely undresses for you.

Your fingers trail on his abdomen, drawing circles on his lower belly just to watch him tense under your touch and breath hard on your lips. The way he reacts to your touch is encouraging and intoxicating for you want to draw more out of him, you want to watch him crumble beneath your touch and be swept away in bliss and, even though you have never done this before, it makes you bolder.

Your fingers curl around his length and he hisses, body rigid as you drag your hand downwards to give him a nice pump and feel him harden against your touch.

“I’ve never done this before,” you confess, voice uncertain as you keep moving slowly between his legs and he smiles, kissing your lips briefly and you know it elates him to be the very first man for you. A part of you wished to be his first too.

“You’re doing well, my sweet love,” he assures you before reaching for your hand and take it in his, “We don’t have to do anything you don’t want us to do. I didn’t bring you here for this,” he tilts his head to the side and kisses your fingertips, one at a time, “I just want to create beautiful memories with you.”

“I want to do this,” you say, shaking your head as soon as he stops talking, “I want you to be the one for me,” your voice is small as you say this but in the silence of the Garden it is enough for him to hear you.

His lips return to your fingers but this time they engulf them, his saliva trailing down your hand as he coats it nicely, making sure every inch is covered before guiding it down between his legs.

You find it’s easy to feel him like this in your hand, it’s easy to pick up a nice rhythm that has him rigid in your palm in no time and breathing hard in your ears and you find it makes you feel immensely powerful to be the one in control of his body and, furthermore, of his pleasure.

“Just like that, my love,” he whimpers in your ears and you eagerly start pumping him faster, reveling in all the little encouragements and responses that leave his mouth.

His breath is hot on your neck and he kisses the soft skin there, biting it down and then licking the pain away as you work him completely rigid in your hand.

A soft moan escapes his lips as you swipe your thumb over his head and he closes his eyes, head tilting backward with the first wave of pleasure you offer to him.

“You are so good, my love,” he says in a whisper as his eyes slightly open to watch you work him raw with the desire of loving you like this forever, not just for this one night.

“I want to taste your lips,” he whines and you immediately understand it is not your mouth he so desperately wants but rather what is between your legs and, with a few more pumps on his cock, you fall back on the ground and spread your legs wide for him to claim what his heart desires.

He is almost ravenous as he grabs your hips and crawls between your thighs, making your blood rush to your face as he inhales deeply the scent of your mound.

The first swept of his tongue takes you by surprise and you jolt on the soft ground, a shriek escaping your lips with the unexpected spark of electricity that ran through you at the mere touch.

His lips come second, kissing your skin the way he has kissed your mouth all night: soft yet passionate and laced with lust.

The sensation between your legs is foreign but it is infinitely pleasant and it makes you wonder how it would feel to have him inside of you, not only like this.

All thoughts are swept away by the second lick of his tongue, sliding between your folds with calculated languidness.

The first time his lips encircle your mound, sucking hard around it, you find yourself moaning his name and arching your back, eager for him to give you more of that heavenly feeling.

It is utter bliss that cottons all of your thoughts and takes over your body the moment he starts claiming you with his mouth, licking and sucking while one of his fingers intrudes between your slick lips.

Every little sound you emit makes him bolder in his movements and faster as he seeks your very first release of pleasure. You understand this the moment your abdomen starts contracting and you find it hard to breathe. It almost hurts but it makes you scream for more until you’re a quivering mess.

“I think I’m going to...” your words trail off as another one of his fingers moves past your lips and follows the first digit inside of you and the stretch it gives you is painfully good, so good you feel something snap inside of you and claim your body as its own.

Your legs tremble and your eyes close as a wave of pure pleasure hits you with the force of a wave, turning everything white.

Your ears are still ringing loudly when you come down from your high, his eyes stuck on your expression as he towers above you, a playful smile on his lips.

“You were so beautiful right now,” he says, caressing your cheek with his clean hand and you bite your bottom lip to stop yourself from smiling so stupidly at every single compliment he has to give, “I want to make you look just like that over and over again.”

His voice is husky with desire and you drag him down on top of your body, kissing him with equal desire to feel him as close as humanly possible.

Your heart beats fast in your chest with excitement and you can’t stop your fingers from trembling while you caress his head as he goes down your body, following the path he already traced with his lips before.

He aligns himself on top of you, kissing your mouth briefly before he is pushing past your swollen lips, penetrating you one inch at a time to give you time to adjust.

The stretch takes some time to happen and it is not like the feeling of his fingers: it’s bigger and it’s more intense and it stings a bit more every time he pushes himself further.

It is painful at first and tears prickle in your eyes but you nod your head ‘yes’ every single time he looks at you, checking your features for any sign of discomfort.

Only when he’s completely inside of you, you release the breath you didn’t realize you were holding and he completely stills his movements.

He kisses your forehead, your eyes, your nose and then your lips, over and over again until your breath is not so ragged anymore and the pain has been subdued with the underlining sensations of pleasure.

He drags his hips forward for the first time and he kisses your lips as he does so, coaxing you until your body relaxes and starts meeting his slow pace.

His hands are cradling your head and he keeps staring inside your eyes as he deepens his mellow pace, reaching inside of you until he can draw moans out of your mouth.

“Does it feel good, my love?” he asks, voice strained with the effort of keeping his pace and you kiss his lips anew, your fingers lost in his hair as you do so.

“Yes,” you whimper out as he pushes further inside of you and he keeps moving forward, angling himself in search of that little something that will make you melt.

The wave of fleeting pleasure hits you by surprise the moment he brushes against your sweet spot with the head of his cock and your breath hitches with a silent moan.

“Jimin,” you whimper out, fingers tightening their grip on the strands of hair on his nape and his eyes refocus on you, “Right there,” you whisper and he pushes forward again, hitting right on that spot and eliciting a deep moan from you.

His lips are quick to gulp it down and then they are on your neck, sucking hard on the skin as he keeps moving in and out of you, his hips meeting yours in a sensual pattern that has you breathless and wanting more, always more.

Your hips start rocking to his tempo, meeting his as you search for that feeling of bliss you experienced mere moments ago.

Your hands rest on the small of his ass, keeping him in place as he thrusts inside of you, whispering your name in your ears over and over again, like a mantra or a prayer.

There is sweat gathering in your hair and on his forehead but it is something else that hits your face and it is tears.

He is looking at you and he is crying with the intensity of his emotions.

“I love you, ____.”

There are words some people never expect to hear and those, coming from the mouth of the Fae Prince, are exactly the ones you would have never thought you’d hear, ever.

But he says them and there is so much emotion in them, so many feelings and despair laced around every single letter of the statement you can’t help but tear up as well.

“I love you, too, Jimin,” you kiss his trembling lips with your quivering ones because even if the desire is still there, even if you are together now, the sadness and the pain for your departure are still a constant thought inside your minds, “So, so much.”

His head falls in the crook of your neck and you hold him closer to your chest, still rocking your hips forward with the desire and the desperate need for release and to feel as close to him as you will ever be.

Low moans escape from his lips every time you clench around him and you fasten your pace until he is lifting his head to look you in the eyes, mouth agape with the pleasure that is finally taking over him.

You watch his features morph and relax as he comes undone, whimpering out your name, guiding you through your own release while riding his.

You feel the fireworks erupt within you and the snapping feeling returns, turning everything white and foggy. All that exists in that moment is bliss and his body flushed against yours, hugging you closer to his heart unwilling to ever let you go.

The room is engulfed in golden light and you struggle to open your eyes but it’s the feeling of a body, right next to yours, that compels you to do so.

The Prince is lying there, his head supported by his arm and he is watching you, a loving gaze on his features.

Memories from last night resurface in your mind and you smile at him, quickly greeting him with a tender kiss.

The walk back to the Castle is a bit foggy in your mind but you do remember the moment he laid you on your bed and you begged him to stay. You had fought sleep as long as you could, trying to be with him for as long as possible but, eventually, fatigue had gotten the best of you with his promise to not leave your side until the morning arrived.

“How did you sleep?” He asks, a soft smile on his lips still quite red from last night’s activities and you take in a breath, hugging his hips as you turn completely towards him.

“I slept perfectly,” you confess, tilting your chin up to plant pecks all over his face, “How about you?”

“I didn’t,” he sighs, pulling a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “I didn’t want to waste a single moment sleeping when I could keep looking at you.”

“Jimin...” you feel guilty for falling asleep, for letting those few hours that you had left pass away just like this when you could’ve kept on making memories together but he shushes you quickly, reading your thoughts as if you were a book.

You exchange tender kisses in the morning light and for a moment it all seems perfectly fine, like nothing is ever going to happen to you, like this is your life from now on.

And then, the knocks come.

Jimin is the first to cry and hug you closer to his chest, unwilling to let you go, and you follow suit, the pain wrenching in your heart.

There are promises hanging in the air, even though neither of you says a word, but they are loud and clear. I will always love you, I will never forget you, I’ll be yours forever.

For long moments there are only tears, sobs, and desperate kisses while behind your door people call your name, incessantly knocking at your door.

You don’t know how you do it, how you finally untangle from each other and say those dreadful words, those goodbyes you hoped never arrived and you don’t even know how you get dressed or walk down to the Hall where your Inarethian emissaries await for you for departure.

You don’t know any of this because by the time you are waling to your carriage all life has been drained out of you. There is no more you but only endless despair.

As you had imagined the evening of your arrival, the scenery doesn’t hold any appeal when you don’t have the heart to admire it, or the eyes to see it.

All you feel is your legs moving forward, your movements guided by the steady arms of Yoongi and then your seat inside the carriage.

You do not see him standing there, on the stares, crying in a corner as he watches you disappear from his life, you don’t even look back and oh, how cruel must you look when you don’t shed even a tear as you leave the whole Kingdom behind.

But as soon as Yoongi’s arms are around you, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, you are screaming and crying all over again, just like last night and there is nothing anyone can do to calm you down.

You know people in the Court that came to see you off can hear you, even in the small distance you already put between you and them. You know he can hear it too but you cannot stop. Not even when you feel sick to your stomach, not even when your voice is almost completely gone, not even when you feel like you have been drained of your tears and nothing will ever come out of your eyes ever again.

You don’t stop even when Yoongi starts crying along with you because you are his best friend and he doesn’t know how to help you, he doesn’t know how to pick up the pieces and put them together again. He doesn’t know because he can’t.

You are shattered, broken beyond recognition and there are simply no pieces left to pick up. No, you are nothing but fine dust being swept away by the summer breeze, hoping to reach him and touch his tender skin again.

Copyright © 2018 by jeonggukingdom. All rights reserved. 

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

Neon Gods Chapter 1

A/N - So this is the first chapter of a potentially longer work some of you guys showed interest in! This isn’t the definitive version, more of a slightly water-downed version I had to submit for a University project, but before I went back and did more, I wanted to know what people thought! :)

Word count - 2691

The name Borealis was far too pretty for such an ugly club. From the outside, it didn’t even look like a club, and the only way you would know that behind it’s grimy and dilapidated exterior were strobe lights and music that played so loudly leaving would make you believe you’d gone deaf, was, well, if you knew. The nightclub for misfits, criminals and those just looking to unwind, was the best-kept secret in the Industrial sector. Nightclubs, bars, or any form of establishment where a person could find a drink and some company for a few hours, had been strictly prohibited since the sector's formation, and any found guilty of running such a place...no one ever spoke of what happened to them. So when Borealis managed to continue surviving in its hidden location, it became unspoken law to not breathe a word to anyone you didn’t trust explicitly.

It was this way Astrid came to work there when she arrived in the sector. Her best, and honestly, only friend Lucra who already worked at Borealis, had taken pity and managed to secure her some shifts. That had been six years ago now, and she'd rather be nowhere else. The hours were long and meant they rarely saw the daytime, but it was always dark in the sector so it hardly mattered. The endless forests of factories billowed out so much thick, dark smoke from their metal trees that the sun was never able to pierce through to be seen anyway.

"Markus wants you back. Getting busy out there."

Astrid turned away from the window to see Lucra leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over his almost bare chest. He was dressed near identical to her, only his black leather pants were exceptionally tighter, and there was about five times the glitter covering the flesh on show. "I needed to get out and take this damned thing off for a bit. Itches like a bitch." Holding up the offending item, a monstrous bright pink wig, Astrid glared at it like it was the cause of every problem in the world.

"Could always dye it, darling," Lucra said, motioning to his own turquoise hair, slicked in gel to stand almost upright with yet even more glitter.

"Ugh with all those chemicals? No thanks. I’ll suffer through." With one sure and practiced movement, Astrid had the wig back on securely, tucking the few stray hairs of her natural brown colour away and out of sight. "How do I look?" She asked, walking over to her friend.

"Gorgeous. You'll get all the tips," Lucra laughed, spending a moment to fluff up the synthetic hair.

Rolling her eyes, Astrid laughed, "I wish. They get one look at you and start drooling over themselves!"

"Between us, we'll rinse them clean then!"

Stepping back onto the floor, the deep thrum of the bass music could be felt reverberating through their bodies, the rhythm steady compared to the higher-pitched techno beat that played over it. Beams of light flashed down from the ceiling, circling from red to blue to yellow to green to pink to red again in a quick sequence that made the eye ache if observed for too long. The smell of vodka mixed with tobacco, weed, and sweat hung in the air hot and heavy as some danced together, bodies pressing with barely a gap between them, while others sat at one of the many tables, laughing and drinking and forgetting all their troubles of back-breaking work and constant observation.

One of said tables, occupied by a group of young men, waved their empty glasses in the air to catch their attention. No words needed to be spoken over who would be the one to go over, both knowing they were Lucra’s specialty, he’d be the one to earn the largest tip, so he broke free from their path to the bar to walk over. Astrid watched him a moment, just to admire his skill of getting customers firmly in his grasp. Everything was a performance, he’d told her once when she was still learning the ropes. From the clothes to the brightly coloured hair, to the glitter that shimmered and sparkled in the dancing lights, appearing so differently to the dull greys and browns that surrounded them in everyday life. It enraptured them, drew them in like they were seeing a magical creature from one of the old stories. That was the first step, from there it was a case of demeanor. Friendly enough to make them feel special, but not so much it came across obvious that you were fishing for extra credits. Read the atmosphere, chat more if they were chatty themselves, be quick with the drinks if they just wanted to be left alone. It was an art form, really, and none did it better than Lucra.

Astrid stopped at an empty table, clearing up the dirty glasses and mess left behind. She’d be lost without Lucra, that was no secret. Arriving in the sector with barely more than the clothes on her back and a little spare cash, with no job or a place to stay, Lucra had taken her in, given her a home. It had been the start of the best friendship she’d ever known, and soon, they’d have enough to get out of here forever. Caelus was waiting for them. They just needed the tickets to get there.

"Daydreaming ‘bout your new fantasy life again, girl?" Markus asked from where he stood behind the bar, mixing up some drinks as Astrid set down the used up glasses.

"Not a fantasy if it can happen, Markus," she retorted, leaning against the edge and grinning.

Markus glared back at her in return, his one synthetic eye narrowing. He’d never gotten the other replaced, no one knew why since the rest of him was more machine than man these days. Astrid suspected that Markus just enjoyed wearing an eyepatch and looking like a grumpy cyborg pirate to hide the fact he was actually quite kind. "You’ll be thirty in a couple years, Astrid. You and Lucra. You need to start facing up to reality and this, here, is your life."

"Never gonna happen, old man. We’ll get there one day. Possibly a little sooner if you raised our wages?"

"And lose two of the reasons, folk keep comin’ here? I don’t think so." Markus finished setting the last of the vividly coloured drinks onto a tray and pushed it towards her. "Now do your damn job and get these to the table in the back corner."

Astrid was about to do as she was told when everything changed. The music was still thumping and the lights still dazzled, but the carefree atmosphere had turned chilly. Looking around, everyone had stopped. No one danced, no one drank, no one said a word. From their spot at the bar, it was impossible to see what was going on. If White Wings had found them the place would be in uproar. People would be running and looking for a way to escape. Shots would be fired, and chaotic terror would fill the room. This wasn’t that kind of fear. This was ice running down your back, heart in your throat, a still sense of uncertainty and dread.

Lucra appeared next to her looking confused as she and Markus were as the crowd of people on the dance floor started to shift, parting to let the cause of the disturbance through. Three men came into view. Two were short, below average height and balding. The other was taller with more muscle than the first two combined. He was definitely intimidating, but not a match for the bouncers Markus hired. No, his appearance wasn’t why people were slowly backing their way to the exit. They were doing that because of the neon bands that wrapped around their biceps, glowing brightly against their dark suits. They were Neon Gods.

Astrid looked away quickly as the men approached the bar, her stomach flipping the same way it does when you’re standing atop a high precipe looking down

"Table," one of the shorter men ordered.

Markus stared at them for a second, the realization that he was being spoken to directly to coming slowly. It hit him and he jumped immediately into action, robotic leg whirring and creaking at being made to move so suddenly. "Course, sir. This way, please." He had never been so polite as he led the men to one of the now quieter corners of the club, people jumping out of their way to make room for them.

"The fuck are Gods doing here? I thought they didn’t know?" Lucra hissed in a whisper, tearing his eyes from the men and back to Astrid.

"Markus said they didn’t, that we were safe from them." Her heart hammered in her chest, the room seemed to spin and it felt like there was no air left in the room, but Astrid managed to glance back around at them before looking away again. The shorter men wore green bands, while the taller just wore a white one. They were low level then. Acting bigger than they really were. No one else in the room knew that. Their ranks were kept secret for a purpose after all. It also meant that they wouldn’t know who she was. Her breathing slowed, and the death grip she’d had on the bar loosened just a little. She was likely safe, but her skin still crawled, and the sooner they left the better.

"I don’t like it." Lucra, braver than Astrid, turned resting his elbows on the bar as he watched the small party. The crowd had thinned considerably, and those who remained were already in the process of leaving. "They have him in the corner, the big guy’s next to him, keeping him there. The little ones are saying something. Markus doesn’t look happy," he narrated, an uncharacteristic frown marring his face. "They’ve agreed to something, they’re shaking hands. Big guy is letting him go and the others are getting up too."

"That was quick," Astrid summoned the courage to look around too, watching the Gods take their leave. She wanted to believe that whatever business they had that could be conducted so quickly wasn’t serious or had anything to do with her, but her gut said otherwise. The twisted knot failed to loosen itself as Markus walked back to the bar, barking at the remaining customers to go over the music.

Markus raised a metallic finger once he’d returned to his spot behind the bar, silencing the question on Lucra’s lips, and reached under the counter with his other hand. Silence fell as the music came to an end. "Thank Christ, finally some fuckin’ peace," Markus grunted, grabbing a glass and pouring himself a healthy serving of whiskey.

"What the hell did they want Markus?"

The other waited until he had downed the amber liquid, and set the glass back down with a clink. "They’re hiring the place out tomorrow night for a “business” meeting. That’s it."

"That’s it?! Markus, we can’t! They’re too dangerous."

"I’m with Trid," Lucra agreed, exchanging a look with Astrid. "We can’t be associating with the Gods."

"You two’re talkin’ like we have a damned choice! They made it pretty clear that there’s only two options. One we do as they say an’ get their protection. Or two, we don’t an’ they throw us to the Wings. Which’d you rather?"

Astrid shook her head, leaning across the counter. "Markus, don’t. There has to be another way."

"And what way is that? Huh?" Markus looked between them both, voice rising as he spoke. "This is my club. I own it. I’m the only one who decides how to run it. You two just work here, and If you don’t like it, don’t let the door hit ya on the way out." His words lacked the venom for the threat to be sincere, and Astrid knew he didn’t like it just as much as them. Not that it made things easier. "Both of you go home and get some sleep, and bring your A-game tomorrow. With luck, this’ll be a one-off thing and we won’t ever have to see them again.

Astrid was prepared to keep on arguing, but Lucra grabbed her hand as he nodded towards Markus. "Okay, okay. We’re going. Goodnight." He pulled Astrid with him as he left the club and out into the night. Rain came down in a fine mist that was hardly noticeable until it started to seep into your skin and make you shiver. Yet that wasn’t the cause of the chill that ran down Astrid’s back as they hurried back to the tiny amount of space they called a flat.

Astrid didn’t sleep, but then neither did Lucra. They sat up together, talking about everything and nothing while steadfastly ignoring the topic of the following night. It was a relief, that she wasn’t alone in her nervousness. Not only did the old phrase 'misery loves company' come to mind, but this way no extra questions were asked, and she was able to get away with pretending all her concerns lay with the fate of the Borealis.

The night came back around as gloomy as always, but there was a far more eerie feeling as Astrid and Lucra stood at the bar and looked around the empty club. It was never empty during opening hours, but the Neon Gods had ordered no public access the entire night, and so none there were.

Just after midnight, the group walked in, larger than the night before, primarily made up of white bands who took positions across the club floor, hands resting entirely unsubtly on their guns. The rest were made up of green bands and to Astrid’s surprise and horror a blue band who was escorting a few unmarked men over to a table. They were almost never seen out in areas like this, so this meeting with the other men must’ve been important. Markus took the lead and walked over to the group as they settled, but Blue Band completely ignored him, letting the greens do the talking. He paid no attention to anyone at all, leaving the unmarked men to shift nervously in their seats as he simply tapped on his phone instead.

She must’ve been staring too hard, or maybe he just knew something was amiss because before she could look away, his eyes snapped up and stared straight at her from across the room. Astrid spun around, pretending to listen as Markus returned and bitched quietly about the obscure drinks they had ordered. She needed to get a grip. She didn’t know his face which meant he shouldn’t know hers. But his band...he knew more than any of the other colours, enough to ruin everything.

"Get these over to them, Astrid. This lot don’t like to be kept waitin’."

Snapped back to reality, Astrid stared at Markus, and then at the tray of drinks in front of her. "I...I…" She couldn’t, she thought. To get that close would be too much of a risk.

"I’ve got them." Lucra stepped in and lifted the tray with ease.

"Whatever." Markus moved further along the bar, trying to observe discretely what was going on.

Astrid looked up at Lucra with a smile and a tiny amount of relief, "Thank you."

"We’re talking when we get home," he said then left with the drinks.

Dropping her head in her hands, Astrid sighed. Had her fear of Blue Band really been that apparent? Probably not, but Lucra knew her better than anyone so of course, he’d pick up on it. How much could she tell him? He wouldn’t let her brush it off, but she needed to keep him safe too, and the truth, the truth of who she really was, was not safe.

A hand landed on her shoulder, and thinking it was Lucra returning, she turned to look at him. The first and only thing she focused on was the band of neon blue.

"Kethra?"

Tagging: @bookcaseninja @sleep-depiravation @0dannyphantom0 @thevalesofanduin @goingknowherewastaken @oxymoroniccat

[wittyy-name]

Wild Magic - Part V: Flying - Now on Patreon

Keith/Lance, Rated M, Part Five: 27,920 words | Total So Far: 119,000+ violence, magic, vastaya au, strangers to lovers, freedom fighter Keith, entertainer Lance, action, adventure, fantasy, pining

Fic Summary: The Vastaya are an ancient and proud race, born of magic and man, and they are dying. The spread of humans makes the magic of their homelands run thin. What is left is preyed upon and corrupted by the rising galra influence.

After losing their home, what remains of the Marmora tribe scatters, fighting the spread of corruption where they can. For the last century, this is the only life Keith has known. And with Shiro’s disappearance, he’s more alone than ever. But he keeps going, even if it means losing himself. For the fight. For his people. For their future. For his homelands. For magic.

The last thing he expected to find was another feathered Vastaya, one with wings that shone like the sky and moved like waves when he danced. He never asked for company, never wanted it. But as Keith finds himself growing fond of Lance’s flippant attitude and determined blue eyes, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he doesn’t want to fight alone anymore.

Part I: Falling – Part II: Rising – Part III: Soaring - Part IV: Gliding

Wild Magic is my upcoming fic collab with @wolfpainters. I’ll be working on this fic between major fic updates, and posting the chapters to my Patreon for all patrons of the $15 tier and up. This fic wont be posted to Ao3 until its completely finished, and Sora is done with all the art. This will be a while in the making, so become a patron for early access!

This is by far my favorite thing I’ve ever written, and it’s by far both of our favorite fic/au that we’ve done. Part V dives deeper into the lore and world building as the gang finds the altean monastery, convinces them to unite against the galra, Keith finds Krolia, and Keith and Lance share more tender moments. 

Patreon | Ko-fi | Twitter | Ao3

Excerpt Below

He's no stranger to chasing rumors. He's done so for centuries. Following whispered words and letting gossip guide him.

As such, he's familiar with the frustration that comes when a lead runs dry.

"This sucks," Pidge huffs, voice trailing to a strangled yelp as she once again on the roots and vines that crawl across the pathways. Keith peers down from his perch, watching as she stumbles, pointing angrily at the ground. "Okay, I know they're doing that on purpose! I saw it this time! The vines are moving, I swear."

Lance's chuckle comes lilting on the breeze, voice drifting from within the home Keith perches on top of. "The forest is having fun with you, Pidge."

"I hate forests." She sits on the lip of a cracked stone fountain, crossing her arms and legs, shoulders hunched. "I thought the ones outside Piltover were bad, but at least those ones didn't try to kill me."

"It's not trying to kill you," Shiro says from across what had once been a village square. His hands rest on his hips, tail flicking the air behind him and ears twitching restlessly. He turns slowly, eyes roaming. "It's just... playful."

"You talk like it has a mind of it's own."

"It does!"

Keith looks down to see Lance crawl out of one of the building's windows. He dusts himself off, straightening his clothes and taking gentle care to check Keith's feathers pinned to his cloak. He knows the feathers are far more durable than that, but the fact that he checks them incessantly makes a warmth flicker in Keith's chest.

"All forests do, but here the magic from the spirit realm is so thick that it saturates everything. The forest is actually able to act on its mind instead of standing idle."

"Great," Pidge says dryly. "So it's alive. Wonderful."

"Technically, all forests are alive." Hunk walks out of the building below Keith, using the open doorway. There's a bundle of bound parchment in his arms.

"You know what I mean," Pidge snaps, but Hunk hardly notices.

"Guys, this is so cool. I found some books? But they're like, really, really old books. It's in a language I don't even understand! I found a couple in what I assume was the kitchen, so maybe they're cook books? I found a few others scattered in the house. Do you think the Alteans can help us decipher them?"

"Probably," Matt says, swinging down from atop another building on a loose branch. He lands easily, picking a leaf out of his hair. "If they're really as old as people say they are. I agree with Hunk, though. This is amazing." He throws his arms out, gesturing to the village as he spins. "This is a footprint of ancient Ionian civilization. Back when people used to work with magic and natural to build their homes. I've read about it, but I never thought I'd see it."

"Too bad it's abandoned," Keith mutters.

"Well, yes, there is that."

Keith crosses his arms over his chest, taking a step back to turn and let his eyes scan across the village. It isn't the first they've come across. Since setting foot on this island, they haven't seen a single living person. Aside from the spirits and animals, they had nothing but eerie silence to keep them company. Even the strong melody of magic couldn't detract from the feeling of emptiness that settled across the landscape.

Like all the other villages they'd come across, the buildings of this one were woven from the trees themselves. Not built from the trees, but rather that the trees had grown and shaped to suit the village needs. They'd seen all sorts of natural architecture as they'd ventured deeper into the island. From all sorts of plant life and the earth itself. The buildings they'd come across settled naturally into the landscape rather than stand atop it.

He'd heard of such magic. Nature magic. The ability to communicate with the energies of the earth. To call out to the magic of living things and will them to grow in specific ways. Wood weavers. Earth builders.

Many vastaya villages were made in a similar way, but he'd heard that long ago, humans could use this kind of magic. He never truly believed it, but now the proof was all around him. On an island that had been abandoned and left an empty husk for spirits to roam.

The humans had fallen far if this is where their ancestry lied.

"Pidge, you have a few..." Keith glances down to find Matt sitting on the lip of the fountain next to Pidge, gesturing vaguely around his head.

Pidge sighs, shoulders slumping. There's a faint glowing bobbing around her head. Two of them. "I know. I tried getting rid of them, but they keep coming back." As Keith watches, the glowing seems to solidify. Two spirits, pale in color and bodies fat and round. Looking like palm sized caterpillars with large eyes and markings that pulsed with light. They became more corporeal, nuzzling into Pidge's hair. "Besides," She says, unable to stop her smile. "They're kind of cute, I guess."

"They think your hair is a nest," Matt snickers, and Pidge playfully shoves him.

Shiro sighs, arms crossing over his chest. "I don't think we're going to find much here."

They all glance over, smiles fading, but it's Pidge who speaks up first. "What're we looking for anyway?"

"At this point, I'd say we're looking for any sign of life around here. We know the altean monastery used to be on this island, we just don't know where or how to find it," Matt says, leaning back on his hands, eyes on Shiro.

"You said they've been missing for thousands of years," Pidge says, slight frown as she stares at Shiro's back. Her voice softens. "Are we sure they're even still alive?"

"No," Shiro breathes out a long sigh. "But we have to hope. We have to make sure. The galra are still wary of them, and the galra fear nothing. That's as good of a reason as any to believe they're still alive."

"Maybe they don't want to be found?" Hunk shifts his weight as eyes turn to him. He busies himself with organizing the bound parchment in his hands, shifting them gently into his bag. "I mean, obviously they don't want to be found. That's why they've been missing for like, forever. But maybe they really don't want to be found? What if they don't want anything to do with us or Ionia?"

"We're not going to give them a choice," Keith says, perhaps a hair too sharply.

One of Shiro's ears swivel in his direction, and the look in his eyes is of exasperated fondness. "Everyone has a choice, Keith. We just need them to hear us out."

"What if they don't want to listen?"

"Then we'll just have to be super convincing, won't we?" Lance scrambles up the building, feet and hands finding easy holds in the woven and twisted bark of the tree. He pulls himself up to Keith's perch on a wide, flat expanse that serves as a roof and a ledge before the tree continues to spiral upwards.

He hooks an arm over Keith's shoulders, leaning into him and offering a curl of his lips. He leans in close, breath whispering against the fur of Keith's ears. "I've heard I'm very convincing."

A shiver runs down his spine, and while Keith says nothing, Lance seems pleased with himself nonetheless.

"Do we have any idea where the monastery is?" Pidge asks, looking to Matt who only shakes his head.

"Unfortunately, no. Everything I've read and everyone I've talked to just says that it was located at the heart of the north eastern isle." He purses his lips, looking up at the trees that towered above them. "I was kind of hoping we'd just... wander around and eventually find someone who could point us in the right direction. Ask the locals, you know? Should've known it wouldn't be that easy. Everything I've read about explorers trying to find the monastery says it's impossible. Like the whole place just disappeared without a trace."

"How does a whole monastery and civilization just..." Hunk waves a hand around vaguely. "Disappear?"

Shiro steps closer to where they gather near the fountain. His brows crease as he stares at the moss covered stonework, tail twitching behind him. "The Alteans were known to be masters of magic. From legends, we know that they were apart of an ancient order dedicated to keeping the balance in Ionia. They watched over spiritual gates and the ley lines. It's entirely possible that it's magic that's keeping them hidden."

"Cool, so we just gotta find a magically hidden ancient civilization," Hunk says, nodding as he closes up his bag and swings it over his shoulder once more. "Easy. No problem."

Pidge turns to Matt, and even from here, Keith can see the clockwork turning behind her eyes. "Do you think we could reverse engineer our magic analyzer to seek magic instead? Like read the levels in the air?"

Keith watched that brilliant spark of magic light up Matt's eyes. "Because if they're being hidden by magic, then there's gotta be a huge concentration of it."

"That would at least lead us in the right direction."

They keep going. A back and forth with no end. Finishing each other's thoughts and sentences. That precious madness flaring between them. Then Hunk joins a grounding force that allowed them to grow. Keith doesn't understand most of what they're saying, but he supposes he doesn't need to.

Shiro looks about as lost as he feels, but he's at least making an attempt to understand.

"I think we're going about this the wrong way." Lance's voice is light and thoughtful, soft enough to be kept private. Keith tilts his head, eyeing him sidelong and lifting a brow to show he has his attention. He watches Lance's profile as he frowns, brows furrowing as he tilts his head. He gestures to those below. "We're going about this like humans."

"The Alteans are human."

The pinch between his brows relaxes, and his lips start to ease upwards. "True, but they weren't blind, nor were they deaf." Lance tilts his head, catching Keith's gaze. There's a sharpness there, and a gleam in his smirk. "Shiro said they were masters of magic and keepers of spiritual gates. What are we, Keith?" His voice dips, and a shiver runs through Keith.

He feels his own lips curl in an answering grin.

Lance steps away from him, arm leaving Keith's shoulder but hand running down his arm to clutch at Keith's as he turns to face him. "We're children of the spirit realm. They might be masters of magic, but we're born from it. I think it's time we stop acting like humans and start acting like vastaya."

His fingers curl between Keith's, grin wide and fangs glinting in the light peeking between the trees. Keith smirks, heart beating wildly in his chest. He understands.

He drops to a crouch, pulling Lance with him. Lance drops at his side, allowing the tug to drag him down. Keith presses their joined hands to the bark beneath them, smooth and woven and ancient, but still very much alive.

He closes his eyes.

He breathes out.

He feels his magic swirl in his core. Bright and vibrant. Harsh warm hues. Warming to deeper purples and indigos and violets.

He feels Lance's magic next to him. Nearly as bright as his own. Washing over him. Cool and soothing. Grounding as it is chaotic. Powerful and rolling. Strength hidden in the illusion of calm. Blues of every shade, swirling and igniting together.

He feels the clash where their hands touch. The sparks where their energies connect. Arcing toward each other. Unable to resist. Unable to stop the attraction, even on a molecular level.

Reaching out, he feels the energy humming through the tree. Chases it down to the earth, where the ley lines run thick and uninhibited. They fracture outward. A spiderweb of fissures that run endless through the ground. He feels where the plant life draws from them. He feels the way it radiates from the earth into the air.

He feels the forest.

He feels the animals.

He feels the ley lines.

He feels the minor spirits that drift through the trees and hover just out of reach, drawn and curious by their presence.

He feels... something stronger. A tug. A distant pull. Something calling to him, but not in any manner he's familiar with. Faint and fleeting. A whispered question.

He snaps his eyes open, gaze locking with Lance's. His eyes are bright. Crinkling at the edges. Dancing with the dust motes.

"You felt it." It's not a question.

Lance's smile curls wide. "Yes."

"What is it?"

"Only one way to find out."

They leap from their perch, darting off into the village with hands still joined. He can hear the others' shouts of surprise. He can hear the questions. He ignores their fading voices, focusing on that distant tug.

They weave through the village, darting between trees that shape homes. Abandoned and empty husks within the woven trunks. Though the shadows and the rays of light drifting down from between branches.

Lance slows at his side. "I lost it."

Keith's hand tightens around his. "I didn't."

He still feels it. Getting stronger and stronger. He realizes that he's following the ley lines. That they're all converging on a point ahead. He pushes his pace. Feet barely touching the grass-lined cobblestones. Lance runs at his side until Keith pulls ahead. Until his hand slips from Keith as Keith darts ahead. Faster. Faster. Faster.

He stops when he reaches another clearing. Another square within the village. He stops suddenly, brought up short by a feeling in his gut. His momentum carries his wing forward, feathers rustling as they settle back down his back.

The ley lines pool here, creating a small wellspring that was no doubt once the village's heart. At the center of the village square is a pillar of stone. It rises from the earth, somehow looking natural despite the deliberate craft to it. The smooth spiral and twisting rise of it.

He steps closer, eyes narrowing at the symbols carved around the pillar. He doesn't recognize them, but he feels like he should.

He feels a presence. A sudden power that makes his hair stand on end and his feathers bristle.

He spins into a crouch, wing automatically flaring out and fingers combing through his feathers, plucking three at random. Magic sparks at his fingertips, sharpening and steeling them.

His eyes lock onto a creature that hovers at the edge of the square, tucked into the shadows of two buildings.

A spirit.

A powerful spirit at that.

Keith can feel the energy radiating from them. Cold on his tongue and washing over his skin like water. Strangely soothing, but sharp enough to keep him on edge. The spirit's body, while corporeal, seems to blur at the edges. Wisps of mist curling from it and obscuring its form. Blue of all shades, swirling and shifting and constantly in motion.

The form of... a lion? Certainly a cat of some sort. Body large. Ears pointed and curled at the tips. Tail thin and flickering, a tuft of hair at the end. Features sharp in places that seem odd and rounded at others. A feline, yes, but definitely a spirit creature.

It stares at Keith, and Keith stares black. Unblinking. Wary. It doesn't feel malicious, but he can never be too certain. Spirits rarely mean harm, especially to vastaya, but he fears if he looks away, the magnificent creature will disappear.

It's gaze, however, is fixed to him. Eyes dark and endless as the night sky. Drawing him in. Seeing through him. Taking the weight of his soul and measuring it.

His breath is caught in his lungs.

Then there's a rustle behind him. A familiar press of cool magic. A soft inhale, and a gentle rush of air. "Whoa..."

The spirit's eyes leave Keith's, snapping to Lance instead. Keith finds himself still unable to move. Waiting, though he isn't sure for what.

A flash of blue in the corner of his eye. "Lance," He hisses, but Lance is already moving forward.

His steps aren't wary, but they're slow. Deliberate. He moves forward with the same grace that fills his every movement, swaying up to the spirit with a confidence that lacks cockiness. When he nears, he drops to his knees, holding his hands out.

And Keith watches, amazed and awed, as the spirit moves forward. As it bumps its head into Lance's hands. As Lance laughs, hands running through the mane of mist.

Lance cradles the spirit's feline head in his hands, leaning forward to press their foreheads together.

Keith hears the clatter of footsteps, loud in the silence. The voices of their friends. He hears their heavy breathing and loud arrival. He hears them stop behind him. Their soft gasps.

"What's... what's he doing?" Hunk asks, voice barely above a whisper.

Lance turns then, head whipping around and grin catching the light as his eyes dance. "Guys! I know where we need to go!"

Keith feels a tug at his lips. "He's asking the locals."

[chuckling-chemist]

A Study In Novels

((The second piece I wrote for the @fantrollszine! This one a little more comedic than the other piece I wrote. And don’t forget, if you like it consider buying me a coffee or checking out my AO3 -- where both of these short stories will be going eventually)) 

Dontoc wasn’t one for reading romance novels.

Maybe it just wasn’t for him. Dontoc much preferred subversive fantasy steeped in lore and original wiggler’s tales from before the Empire found and censored them. Books that praised the Empire or grounded themselves too close to reality weren’t likely to catch his eye. That’s not to say a romance novel couldn’t be subversive or fantastical -- Dontoc’s sure they existed somewhere -- but his experience in the genre was limited to whatever books he acquired secondhand from either his moirail or his hivemate. Which, to be fair, Dontoc held as little interest in books describing in excruciating detail the ins and outs of traditional interstellar subjuggalator pailing that his moirail found morbidly interesting as he did the godawful romance self-published stories his hivemate regularly printed off from some blog and left sitting around on tables when she got stuck on something in the lab.

Then again this current one he attempted to slog through, recommended by his matesprit to give him a good example of the genre, wasn’t any better. It felt less like a novel and more like a subpar lecture on the importance of keeping quadrants filled and separated, combined with a bizarrely saccharine tone out of place for a novel that critics heralded as “diving into the dark, twisted secrets of forbidden flush love between two castes”. It was no more than yet another creepy realistic-fiction that tried to play off the caste difference as something inherently disturbing.

His so-called matesprit, to give the kindest words to a troll forcing their relationship on life support through thinly veiled threats against his friends, lamented his apparent lack of interest in romance novels indicated a lack of romanticism. Had Dontoc not had sufficient evidence to the contrary, he might have believed her.

I reach across the desk, over to the looming seadweller on the other side and he snatches it out of the air. I flush, face turning impossibly teal under his watchful gaze. How did he know I would try to grab it?

“Okay, that is enough of that for tonight,” he said with a groan.

“Enough of what?”

Even knowing the voice instantly to be the chirpy lilt of his hivemate, Pallia, her sudden entrance into the mainblock still made his heart skip a beat. She plopped down on the seat next to him of the black couch, peering over half-moon glasses to grimace at the book in his hand. She didn’t have to say anything to exude the level of judgement he felt from her.

“You, lover of subjuggalator documentaries, cannot possibly be judging me for reading something bad,” he said lightly.

“Oh come on, Dontoc there’s bad and then there’s this.” She glanced down at the book again. “What’s it even about anyway?”

He shook his head with a sigh, letting the finger holding his spot slip out of the book. “Certainly you could wager a guess.”

“Oh a puzzle?” Pallia shifted around in her seat, turning to face him with crossed legs. She was dressed for ultimate relaxation in a pair of sweats and loose sweatshirt, with her hair pulled up in an unusually well-kept bun thanks to a few well-placed pencils. She contrasted him, tall and fully dressed in a three piece suit with his perpetually unkempt short hair, quite perfectly. Her teal eyes sparkled with mirth from behind the glasses. “Do I get any hints?”

He smirked playfully. “You have not somehow ingested enough bad media to hazard a proper guess?”

“Not for romance.” Pallia crossed her arms and huffed. “God Dontoc, I only have one quadrant. Do I really strike you as the romantic type?”

Did Pallia strike him as the romantic type? Dontoc wasn’t actually sure. With her only having one quadrant, he couldn’t accurately say for sure if such were true, or if he simply never had the chance to see her interact with a quadrant proper. She might not be the same affectionate, teasing troll who went out of her way to make sure he felt included around a quadrant. His doubt might just be his own long-time, latent flush crush on her causing him to project.

After all, he did have a flush crush on her. That much was certain. A sweep or two ago, he might have tried to deny to himself, but by now there was no other way to explain the way being around her made his whole body feel ten pounds lighter and pointlessly giddy at any little thing. His other friendships, even his actual matespritship, failed to elicit similar reactions. The closest was his moirail, Valeba, who always always brought serenity with her presence, but even that wasn’t this bizarre effervescence that floated him away from his anxieties. Not that he’d ever tell Pallia any of this. Managing to get a best friend whom he adored, despite their caste difference, was more than acceptable. To ask anything more was selfish.

“You simply strike me as the type to have read enough bad media, regardless of genre, to take some sort of guess,” he said. “Or have I somehow misread that one and you happen to unironically enjoy ‘Subjuggalating Mentor to Highbloods is Put Under Great Scrutiny after Explaining to Bluebloods the Importance of the Mirthful Messiahs Upon Inquisition. When the Bigoted Seadwelling Upper Staff Wish to Cull Her, She Goes to the Courtblock to Defend Faith In Schoolfeeding, Alongside a Plucky Tealblood Looking for His Big Break’?”

She snorted. “Please. I don’t think a single person unironically enjoys that. How can anything fall face first into every stereotype while acting like it doesn’t? There’s never been a more--” she paused to slap her forehead with an amused groan “--oh of course! The book’s hemoist isn’t it?”

Dontoc grinned. How could he not? “Oh, extremely. The highblood is the dominant one in the relationship, and he is honestly worse than you would expect.”

“Tall, well dressed and…” she tapped her finger on her arm in thought… “indigo? That strength is attractive to a lot of trolls.”

“You are not far off. Think higher.” He gestured upward toward his own twitching fins. “Much higher.”

“Violet? Really?” She looked at the cover again doubtfully. “But this looks like some kind of rich businessman type of story. I thought the violet caste normally keeps to themselves.”

“Oh they do. This book bypassed such a problem by saying he simply moved onto land when he was very young, shortly after his lusus was culled by extreme hemorebels, to get ‘more out of life’. Or perhaps it was not. Honestly, the backstory was brushed aside in favor of having the two stare blankly at each other.”

Pallia raised her eyebrows. “Is the protagonist’s backstory any clearer or is it just as bad?”

Dontoc shrugged helplessly. “If I tell you her backstory, I assure you it will give away her caste immediat--”

“Oh, so she’s a tealblood. Probably ten sweeps old, if they’re playing off twenty sweeps as young somehow. Tiny waif of a troll too, I bet.”

Well. That happened. Dontoc blinked owlishly at her assessment. Every single piece was completely true, down to the size of the tealblood. There’s no way she read the book. He would’ve seen it somewhere. “Um...how...how did…”

“You said if you tell me the caste, it gives it away. Teals and jades are the most rigid in jobs, but jadeblood romance is mostly always two women, while this love interest is male.” It was her turn to smirk, pointy fangs poking out from underneath her lips. “Despite your best efforts, you still gave away way too much.”

“You asked for a hint,” he pointed out.

“You said you weren’t giving it to me.”

He hummed, running a hand through his hair. “I suppose I did. My mistake then. Perhaps we can try this again the next time Careen insists I do some reading.”

Pallia’s amiable expression dropped into a far more worried one. “She insisted? Really? That’sss abssolutely…” she trailed off with a shake of her head. “Ignore me. That’sss not my place.”

Dontoc set the book down on the floor, shifting so he could face Pallia better. She must’ve scooted closer at some point. Or maybe he just hadn’t noticed how close they were? It was only a loveseat after all. “Are you certain? After all dear, I--”

“It’sss fine. Ssserioussssly.” She gave him a reassuring smile. It looked somewhat forced, but it was clear she didn’t want to talk about it. Better to just move on. “So, anything else to guess about the book?”

“Hm? Oh, yes right. Let me just, ah...” He reached toward the empty space in his lap for the book, but Pallia got to him first, stopping him with a soft hand. He looked at her with a puzzled expression, a stark counter to her amused one.

“Dontoc you put the book on the floor,” she said with a chuckle.

He glanced down at the floor, realizing with growing horror he most definitely did put it down on the floor. Heat pricked up his neck, causing his lips to twist into a sheepish grin. He wiggled his hand out of Pallia’s to run through his hair instead. If nothing else, the action helped calm his nerves. “So...so I did. My apologies,” he said finally.

She shrugged. “None needed. Do you even need the thing, or is the book that forgettable?”

“I ah...well, poorly constructed story or no, it is comforting to some degree to hold it. After living in what may as well have been a library alone I suppose it just...it just happened.” He sighed, a mixture of bittersweet and wistful. Memories of his childhood flooded back in waves. The lonesome library ran by a kindly jadeblood. Her impeccable ability to find whatever he should read next. The other kids trying to steal and damage them. His instructor taking his copy of The Grimdark Narrator’s wigglers tales and insisting it was inappropriate for him to read it.

Thank God Pallia was there to keep the focus, or else who knows how long he’d reminisce on the parts of his life he’d rather forget. “So you said it’s a violetblood right? And a tealblood? Not any other mid-caste.”

“Erm...yes.” He quirked an eyebrow. “Though I am not sure why that is important. It is just a caste gap. From what I understand, those are quite common in romance.”

“Oh they are. Totally common. Which is funny, considering it happens anywhere else and people can’t take it.” She pointed down at the book on the floor, the cover of which showed a lone desk covered in papers. “But that’s beside the point. So the teal is probably some personal assistant to him?”

Dontoc nodded slowly. That much was hardly a guess. While in reality tealbloods got well-to-do, white collar jobs, it seems any time a tealblood actually showed up in media, they were subservient to some higher caste. Not the same way the lowbloods were, how many of them were maids or butlers at best, but the paid equivalent of such didn’t feel like much of an improvement to him. “Of course. Did you not know that teals are little more than suck-ups to the Empire? Constantly following around the Empress to compliment her and give her the newest gossip on the common folk. After they round up all the little bad trolls, of course.”

Pallia crossed her arms, smirk playing at the corners of her lips. “Did Careen let you in on that hot tip?”

“Oh no, someone far more reasonable in such a regard. Someone with a good head on their shoulders, you see.” Pallia seemed to sag in disappointment until he added, “It was Pothos.”

“Oh my God!” she squealed. Her whole body convulsed with laughter as she fell back into the couch.  “You are not allowed to do that again!”

“...Make you laugh?” he asked cautiously. He didn’t think she was upset, but at the same time her worried look when mentioning Careen earlier had him on edge. “You are ah...you are--”

She heaved herself up and nodded, bun askew and grin plastered on her face. “Oh I’m great. I cannot believe you got me to think about that bumbling idiot. Did Careen tell you about when she thought we’d work as a quadrant?”

Dontoc shook his head: she hadn’t. While Careen was always eager to do nothing but complain about Pallia, and had been downright enthusiastic to tell Dontoc all about when his hivemate supposedly expressed flush interest in Pothos that he didn’t return, she never gave any more details. The whole story felt off in a way he couldn’t fully explain (in fact, it was another one he was willing to brush off as him projecting his crush --  sure, he can’t imagine Pallia wanting to be with a troll who truly thought skull shape indicated intelligence but maybe it was only wishful thinking), but he never told Careen such. It was good to know he had every right to be suspicious.

“How did it go?”

Pallia snorted. “About as bad as you’d expect. He learns I have a hint of an interest in something, and just starts talking over me like he’s suddenly the expert. He knows the chemical formula for table salt. That’s it. Wouldn’t know a stem cell from the stem of a plant.” She paused, eyes suddenly going wide. She wasn’t looking at him, not anymore. Her gaze was pointedly focused on that book. “Wait a second. This is her book right? Does Careen have some kind of thing for violets and teals?”

Dontoc rolled his eyes. “I doubt it. She has an odd hatred for teals. Jades too, to a lesser degree. She will not voice it, but it is present. Besides, if she really wanted you to be paired up with a violetblood to conform to her romance tropes, there are far better options.”

Pallia chuckled. “Yeah, at least if it’s like...us, it subverts that ‘teal employed by violet’ thing.”

Whatever train of thought he had immediately crashed. His face burned, and fins fluttering in embarrassment or not, there was no cooling it down in time to reduce the flush. “Ah….uh…” he swallowed harshly, realizing as he spoke his mouth was suddenly dry as sandpaper, “excuse me dear, what?”

“Oh you know. Technically speaking, you’re my research assistant. Not the other way around.” She paused, closing her eyes with a sigh. If she recognized how flustered he was right now, she wasn’t saying anything. “Then again though, considering the whole Preypal thing...maybe that doesn’t count? But sponsorships don’t count as employment. This might be more complicated than I thought.”

“You’ve thought about this before?”

“Well yeah. I mean…” They locked eyes, and he only just noticed the blush creeping on her own face. “I get bored waiting for the ion spectroscopy to finish. The logistics of how our lives would function within a work of fiction is far from the weirdest thought experiment I’ve had. I think that one started with a conversation I had with Aisral? I dunno.”

“But you have thought at length about the logistics of us...uh…”

“Ssssort of? In the same way I’ve thought about like...I dunno, me and Aisral or something. Purely hypothetical. Don’t worry. I realize you’re with Careen and talking about it’s probably strange to think about dating your hivemate...” Pallia trailed off, letting out a quiet, awkward laugh as she rubbed her neck.

“Oh impossibly so, but continue.”

“But seriously, it’s not the most unlikely thing I’ve heard. More likely than anything in that book, anyway. If that makes any sense. Sssorry for worrying you.”

“Think nothing of it.” Okay. So it’s only that they’d make a better story than whatever dribble Dontoc was reading. That’s probably true. While not the worst novel he’s come across, there weren’t many worse. His fluttering pulse calmed down enough that he actually felt he could breathe again. “If it helps, I would much rather read about us than this couple.”

Pallia smirked. “Even the pailing scenes?”

Dontoc’s face fell. He erased those from his memory, too. “Okay, we’re finished here.”

[stareiiez]

Flower Petals and Blood

It’s currently 1:40 am right now, but hey. I needed to update this series anyway. Anyway, Tucker is becoming involved, so yes that slow burn is coming up. Trust me. 

Chapter 4

Leonard Church x Female Reader x Lavernius Tucker

"You sure walking around in my armor twenty-four seven is even a good idea?" Your voice was still a little hoarse behind the helmet.

Golden visor pointed directly to stare, unblinkingly,  at Doc in front of you. The male had stepped back once he had helped twist your helmet in place, and the lock had given off a satisfied hiss of air pressure regulate inside your suit. After you both had shooed Caboose off into the kitchen to hunt down for something to eat, and give you two time to talk, Doc had come up with this ridiculous idea. You never wore your armor that much out of all of Blue Team, but now that you would be the one to never take it off it would seem odd to the guys about this decision.

"Nonsense. Besides if you were to ever cough up petals once again when the others were around, there would be no possible way of them seeing it. Hence the everyday armor wearing." Giving a satisfied nod, the medic had seemed pretty pleased about his idea.

It all seemed pretty unreasonable still, some 'full proof plan' always had holes in it once it was put into action. Shaking your head, Caboose had burst out of the kitchen. A few sorry excuses for MREs in one hand and a cup of day old orange juice in the other. If there wasn't a helmet covering his expression then you could have sworn that he held a beaming smile. One only a child could pull off.

"Juice makes the coughs go away, right?" The male exclaimed your name vividly if your chest wasn't as tight as it was, you would have laughed from Caboose's 'help'.

"Yes that's just what will help me, thank you Caboose." A genuine smile painted across your face easily.  A hand had reached out to grab the small cup of the orange skin that was probably way too warm right now.

In your cold, clammy hands you held the cup so delicately. Fingers nearly shaking with the stress of how a literal flower garden was growing and weaving its thorny vines around your lungs and bronchi. The warm orange juice tasted like heaven in your parched, sore throat. Surprisingly you didn't cough, as you had lowered your slightly raised helmet just as Caboose had plopped down on the shitty couch in Blue Base. The flower petal you coughed up had been picked up and tucked away in Doc's armor. 'For more observation and tests' was what he said before he finished packing up the rest of the medical tools he had used on you.

After that day, the coughs had been an off and on again reoccurrence. Caboose seemed to have stepped in whenever Tucker or Tex would happen to be close to where you were hacking your lungs out for the second time that week. For someone who never kept up with what was going in half the time, Caboose had known that you were in pain and not feeling your best anymore.

After the first time you had coughed up the petal, one or two would seem to follow. It wasn't coughing up whole flowers, but even one petal was a lot to deal with on its own. The sun beat down on the top of your helmet as you watched your team stand around and attempt to train with lousy drills you had instructed, more like suggested. With a huff your hand rose to scratch at your already scratchy throat for the third time in the first hour, you had been perched atop the Blue Base. Caboose, Tucker, and Tex were down on the bottom and Church were nowhere to be seen. If his ghosty ass was to materialize around the boys, you would find some excuse to avoid the former blue. Poor Caboose, he tried his best to make up excuses as to why you never talked to Church as much as you used to.

The thought of the male brought a harsh cough to spill from your lips, then a few more spine racking heaves for air had you almost bent over backward. Flower petals tickled your throat, and the urge to shove your fingers down your throat to pluck them out was deadly tempting right now.

"Jesus Christ, at this rate your ass will be joining mine the more you keep this shit up." A familiar voice spoke up, ceasing your coughs and the urge to breathe all at once.

Swallowing harshly, and hoping to God you could hold back the flowers from traveling up your throat any higher, your head turned to face the icy see through 'ghost' of a man. Church had his sniper rifle clipped to his backplate and his arms crossed firmly over his chest plate. If he didn't have his helmet on his equally clear, icy blue eyes would be staring daggers into the back of your head. Tilting your head to the side just enough to get the man into your peripheral vision, the words had tried forming in your mouth without bringing up the damned velvety soft petals that were stuck in your esophagus.

"Sounds like a hell I'd rather not join." Your voice was gravelly. It sounded like you smoked a pack of cigarettes mixed with a voice of a girl who was trying to sound sexy.

Tucker's scream had snapped your attention forward once more. Tex had the soldier by the throat in one hand while shaking her finger at Caboose with the other. Another scream and an aqua blur sailed through the air until the male hit the ground and rolled to a stop a few feet away from the base.

A beat of silence passed before Church had 'floated' to your side and sat crisscrossed next to your side. Helmet visor trained on your side profile, and to make things worse it felt like you were about to puke from the strong taste of earthy petals had hit the back of your throat. Your chest was taking the most shallow of breaths while your hands were shaking at your sides. To Church, it looked like you were dead. Internally you were just trying to hold back a wave of coughs that squeezed at your poor lungs.

"What's up with you?" Church demanded, his voice surprisingly calm but his words had the edge to it.

After a pang of awkward silence, a soft wheeze escaped your chapped lips while oxygen entered your lungs. You both cringed from the sound, but neither of you brought it up. Shoulders rose in a passive shrug, that only seemed to infuriate the male, even more, you finally turned your head to face him. God, he was a lot closer than you expected him to be.

"I told you I was feeling under the weather. You seemed more than happy to be away from me, even though ghosts can't get sick." Rolling your eyes at the word 'ghost'. "Getting sick changes some people because we're more miserable than usual."

You'd be preaching to the choir about feeling miserable. Having emotional heartache status of miserable was one thing, dying from unrequited feelings miserable was a whole damn story.

"You don't seem sick, other than that nasty ass cough. I know sick when I was a kid I was in and out of hospitals a lot. You seem.." His head tilted, eyes narrowing in the process. Church leaned in a little more. His helmet could have bumped the mouth part of yours if he was solid. "Different. I doubt some Covenant or alien bullshit disease could make you like this."

You leaned back, the air in your inhale had rattled your lungs. Now he was far too close now, way too close for along the lines of being comfortable.  Flower petals seemed to flutter and stick to your parched throat. 'You're right I'm just suffering from some fantasy disease that makes me become a walking flower garden. Did I mention I fucking die?' If only you could say that out loud to him right now. Instead, you brushed off his words casually.

"Guess my body is  secretly dying so I could join you on the other side." You joked lightheartedly as if jokes could somehow change the subject of how your coughs were concerning to the male.

Church ground out your name causing the forced humor in your voice to die out, and the pang of awkward silence grow between you both. He shifted closer to you and reached out a hand to grab the chin part of your helmet. Although his hand went right through, you knew the action of it meant all the more serious. "You're lying. I know how you are."

Your gaze was glued to Church, your hands had clenched in tight fists. You were already uneasy as it is, now that he knew something was off it was all the more stressful. Your lungs were screaming at you to breathe, and your brain was putting up red flags for you to keep your damned mouth shut. Then again around him, you were open and you never held anything back; except for your feelings that were unnecessary in the end.

"What did I do to deserve these cold shoulder looks from you. You know how much I worry and care about you."

His voice softened, maybe it dropped an octave. Eyes stared large holed into your visor and seemed to make you squirm underneath his intense stare.

"You seem to care more about Tex than you do me." Ouch. Now that bitch route was the one you seemed to be walking after saying that. Who were you to control his emotions and attractions? God? Hell no.

"What? (Y/N) why would you?-"

Your name was exclaimed, effectively cutting off Church's sentence. Both of your heads whipped around to see Tucker and Caboose standing behind you. Both men staring more at you, then they were at their leader of their team. With Tex nowhere to be seen it was for the best, even how you were right now. Both of you leaned into each other and Church's hand on your helmet it looked like you were both intimate. As if that didn't make your chest hurt any more than it did already. Were you shaking? Is that why Caboose and Tucker were staring at you like that?

"Let's go. Now." Tucker spoke up, his voice even having an edge of seriousness to its usual lighthearted deep tone anyway.

"I was busy here, dickbag." Church spat. His hand and body pulling away from you.

"We need her for something. The warthog broke down again." The aqua soldier stepped forward. His right hand stretched out in an offering to help you up. Lies, nothing was broken, he just wanted you alone right now.

"You guys broke that already? I just tuned up that damn thing." You deadpanned, taking ahold of his hand you were pulled up to your feet and already being pulled to where Caboose stood by Tucker's hand.

Frowning at the rough pull on your arm. You pushed the male's grip off of you once you were away from Church. Although the rough action had caused a small cough to slip past your lips. Caboose winced, and did Tucker flinch? He did.

"You all are on something. I feel like Tex is the only one that's normal here, and she's the one whos a psychotic bitch who wants to kill us." Church snapped, then flickered as a bullet sailed right through him.

Course Tex heard that, somehow, and shot at the male. If only it really hurt him, maybe it'd be karma for what you were going through right now. After she had shot at the male, Church had faded without saying bye or anything. All he did was flip Tex off in the direction where the bullet came from and leave. Now that he was gone, you bent over. Ripping your helmet off, you bent over hands planting on the steel of the base. You puked up flower petals till tears were brought to the corner of your eyes. Colorful flower petals had spilled to the ground and covered the boots of dark blue and aqua armor. Your ears rang and your heart was pounding into overdrive from the pain that squeezed at your lungs. Voices swam in your ears as you heaved until the last few petals had fallen to the ground and you could gasp for breath once more. Fuck this time one the most.

You wanted to cry. You wanted to scream and throw yourself off a cliff. Your arms shook with the strain to hold your shaking body up. Sweat made your hair stick to your scalp, and the tears in your eyes had clouded your vision to the point of barely making out the kaleidoscope of colors that were on the ground under you.

"Holy shit," Tucker whispered, his dark brown eyes staring at you in disbelief.

Caboose was staring at you, hands were glued to the mouthpiece of his helmet like he wasn't used to you having flowers escape your mouth. You needed sleep, you needed a distraction of this terrible illness. You were cursed to be forever alone, that's what you always said. Now you were going to die alone because fate wanted to be that bitch that bent you over and fucked you in the end. Panting for breath, you finally managed to blink back the tears far enough so you could see. A few rebellious ones poured down your cheeks gently. Those bright colors seemed darker to you now, slightly muted and leaning towards the shade of black. Maybe that was your delusional panic setting in. You had a right to panic, after all, you just revealed your disease to another person on your team and in this canyon.  

Caboose was frozen to his spot, he was nearly shaking as bad as you were. Tucker was, well, he was panicking and in that split moment he had swept your body up into his strong arms. Your head was digging into the curve of his neck. He smelled clean, for being stuck out in the middle of nowhere and sweating your asses off 24/7.

"Caboose wasn't lying. Mother fucker." His deep voice vibrated in your head, his hold on you made you lose the breath that you fought so hard to gain.

"Hide the petals, I'm taking her to bed before anybody else needs to see this damned thing."

Through bleary-eyed vision, and you barely whimpering in pain from how fast Tucker was high tailing it to his room. You could hear the male curse over and over under his breath. That's what you could remember hearing before you had passed out in his arms.

Darkness was what you woke up to. Darkness and the slight stream of sunlight that stood out starkly in the bedroom. Thick. cotton, white sheets that smelled strongly of earth, gunpowder, and cologne had slowly awoken your senses. This wasn't your room that was the first thing you thought of before you slowly opened your eyes. They felt swollen like you had cried your eyes out for a whole day. The next thing you felt was that ghostly pain in your chest, but it didn't hurt as bad as the illness first affected you. You felt almost relief whatever happened after you passed was a miracle.

"You're awake. " Tucker spoke up, his voice causing you to nearly jolt in his bed. Wait, in his bed. You were in his bed.

Yanking the covers up, your eyes had scanned your body quickly. Clothed in your undersuit for your armor, you gave a sigh of relief. Well, the male would never try anything with an unconscious girl. Although waking up in a boy's bed without knowing how you got there was still suspicious.

"Chill, I carried you to bed and I've been stuck here watching your ass. Caboose wouldn't let me leave before you had woken up."

You turned on your side to face Tucker as he spoke.

He was sitting down on the other side of the bed where you weren't laying on. His helmet was off as well as armor. God he looked worried, you have never seen him this worried until you had discovered his 'special rock' and what he was doing behind it. That was more horrified than worrying, to say the least.

"Did you-" You fiddled with the sheets in your grasp. Eyes diverted from his face long enough to scramble your brain for a way to finish your sentence. "Did you happen to see everything that happened before?" Your voice dropped to a whisper.

A sharp breath broke the heartbeat of silence that passed between the both of you. "How could I not? It's not every day someone pukes up flowers."

"Don't tell anyone about this. I mean it." Your brows furrowed in frustration. Body shaking in a slight effort to sit up in bed while nearly demanding your teammate to keep his mouth shut.

"Why would I? It's not like anyone would believe me."

"Tucker you're an idiot. I don't expect a lot from you now these days." Rolling your eyes, you shoved the blankets off your body and made a show of standing up from his bed.

"Where are you going now, you've been out for the past hour and a half." Brown eyes were fixated on your frame while you walked to his door.

"Doc. I need ideas of how I can somehow distract these disease, or possibly distract myself from this shit." Yanking the door open, you bit down on your bottom lip slightly. Your head tilted to give a look at the male. His eyes hadn't left you since you got up.

"Thanks, for taking care of me. You made me feel a lot better than I've felt in a while."

"Anytime babe. Maybe next time I could do the distracting part for you. Besides, a little morphine does the soul some good. Thank Doc for that also when you see him."

Ignoring the pickup line, and nickname he called you. You let the male be and made your way into your own room. When you had entered your room, you froze. Your eyes had caught sight of the colorful flower petals in the little pile on your dresser. Caboose had placed those thereafter Tucker laid you to sleep in his room. How could something that held so much beauty, and was cherished by everyone could bring you a grimace? They looked ugly to you now the more you looked at them, shimmering brightly against the bright rays of sun that shone through your window. On top of finding ways to distract yourself, maybe you could figure out what type of flowers were growing in your chest.

Maybe you could take Tucker up on that offer for a distraction after all.

[edennohebi]

the haze had proven itself to live up to the often applied nickname of hell time & time again; & yet, you had adjusted. you had found a way to exist here, if only by the skin of your teeth. though the serpents were cruel & monstrous, & some of those around you were less than stable -- maybe, just maybe, you could survive & things would go on without too much disturbance.

for that, saeru would laugh & call you an ill-bred fool: a prisoner who had grown far too comfortable in their prison, & needed to be reminded of their place.

it seemed that this would serve as your wake up call to their reality. things had carried on as they usually had in the haze -- up until all of the television sets had begun to flicker alive. previously they had been filled to the brim with nothing more than static: the wash of scrambling grey & the scratching-like noise had been enough fuel to make the ears wary & your sense of intuition slightly unsettled. but it had been nothing more than fuzz, right? it could have been easily ignored; but today, the snakes would not allow such. 

their only use was for that of the snakes & they had never been a good sign. immediate apprehension twists in your core, & your hands feel clammier -- your eyes had no choice: it was not a matter of wanting or not wanting to, the hushed whispers in your ears of the snakes would force you to focus on it until they decided you could stop. every passing second in this never-moving world was torturous, but soon, the screen would twist & shift into focus. however, it was not one of the lesser snakes who appeared on the screen, but the queen & 'king' themselves seated upon their respective thrones.

though neutral in demeanor at first, once the camera locks onto clearing eyes himself his expression tears into a grin: whatever hope that had sat in your heart would soon be torn to shreds.

“my my -- what a magnificent sight to behold ! nothing pleases me more than to see you all stricken with such lost & hopeless expressions: like meager lambs, led along to their untimely massacre. ” he breathes a chuckle, & a sickening tremble teeters into his words -- ‘enjoying it’ was an understatement. “ wonderful, wonderful ! ”

he hums to himself, lids lowered coquettishly. “ of course, your curiosity must be maddening, hm? how you must be starving for answers -- wondering to yourselves, 'what’s this all about?', or perhaps, 'is this the end?' aahh -- please, do continue on with your endless queries ! after all, only i can grant you the knowledge you so seek. you have wandered into a garden, & i shall bestow-- ”

from the background, a voice belonging to none other than the jackal rings higher than saeru’s, excited & growing louder, much to his displeasure. ‘ papa! i wanna do it -- i wanna do it!!! ’ 

before she can be denied, the camera angle is pulled, &. the demonic canine now stares directly into the lens.

‘ what papa was saying is that things are going to really start picking up! everybody seemed to be getting kinda relaxed about the idea of dying, & i guess it’s because you all got used to the idea that mama could just bring you back, all nice & pretty, right? unfortunately for you, that’s starting to get a little annoying, now, so it won’t be happening anymore. you stupid humans shouldn’t forget that even though mama was gracious enough to give, she can just as easily take away. since all of you seem to need a lesson, in it, consider this chapter one! ’

‘ because everyone is just fine with losing their lives all the time, every one of you is going to start losing your senses, too -- some of you won’t be able to see in front of you, or hear who’s approaching from behind. some of you won’t be able to feel it when someone touches you, or have the pleasure of smelling or tasting your next meal. for some of you, that might be easier, & you can live without it. for someone else, though, maybe they’ll be bothered enough that they’ll finally kill someone on their own terms & stop waiting for it to be something as small as a dare? ’

‘ either way, it’s going to get worse the longer you make us wait for someone to kill somebody else, & if you keep doing it in those little games to make sure mama can bring you back, maybe she’ll just stop making everything work right, on your body? i sure hope you’ll be okay trying to run away from your next killer with a clubbed foot, or hold a weapon with fingers that won’t close around the hilt! ’

‘ & for the first person who doesn’t keep us waiting, if you’d like to stir up the pot some more, & make everyone really hate & fear you, we wanna offer a little reward. if you really want to get back to your happy little lives, or to your friends & families, make it a point to come straight to us, so we can go ahead & let everyone know who decided they couldn’t take it, anymore! ’

‘ kekeke..that said, you should probably hurry. someone else might have the same ideas as you, now, & that just means the clock is ticking. ’

before the jackal can continue on further with her rambling, a hand is quick to grab a fistful of her shirt. off the ground she goes, akin to a cat picked up by it’s scruff, & is soon deposited into the queen’s lap with a hiss of "children should only speak when told to, brat."

‘ ppft ... ’

there’s a distinct click of the tongue as clearing eyes comes back into view, expression marginally soured. but he’ll continue: such is his job.

“ what a tragedy, ” there’s a false lament in his tone, uncaring entirely, “ for you to have been fed false information. the child only speaks in half-truths: error laces itself so easily into the words of the unknowing & the idiotic. you see, to assume her Majesty holds any mercy for your pitiful lives at all is rather bold -- stupidly so. gorge yourself on the rush of blood lust & adrenaline if you so wish. it’s quite the spectacle, but ah -- do not expect things to continue on as they had. ”

a hint of a smirk plays on his lips.

“ after all, you had killed so ruthlessly with security, had you not? the assurance that death here was not permanent, that your fates lied at the Queen’s fingertips, & so long as someone died, they would return. ” a snorted ‘how stupid’ follows suit, “ it would be no fun at all, right? imagine: suffering the consequences for your actions & facing the throes of guilt! ”

he laughs.

“ imagination is a useless thing. a pitiful realm of fantasy holds no weight here; instead, you must face your reality. allow me to explain: if you are harmed, our hands will no longer heal. survival is something you must fight tooth & nail for: not something simply handed over. further more, if you are to kill, i advise you be aware of the consequences. prophets once spoke of a belief -- ‘an eye for an eye’, was it? those who kill unashamedly before a crowd will be killed in return -- by my hand. understand?  ”

“ ah, & one more thing. i'm sure none of you wish to be without your most valued of senses. animals who are crippled, after all, are nothing more than easy prey. " he hums. " if you desire them once more, then you must commit murder: & get away with it effortlessly. pure & simple. if you cover your tracks, then you shall be guided towards the gates of freedom: but if you are to fail, then you must pay for your foolishness & mistakes as aforementioned. but the risk is well worth a chance of livelihood again," his head tilts, eyes narrowing in tease. " isn't it? ”

he sits back, though his hand seems to stay within immediate eye-shot. the Queen & Ellen are within view, too: though the Queen’s gaze is fixated upon the screen, her hand runs idly through ellen’s hair, perhaps in pacification. even so, all of their smiles hint at sadism, & the unison in their ‘farewell’ fails to bode well. a moment passes, & the screen becomes void of their image; only leaving you with your thoughts & the mind numbing sound of static on the televisions once more. they have thrown you to the dogs, & now they will serve as spectators in your suffering.

                          WELCOME TO THE NEXT TRAGEDY                                                                   ( The Story of Eyes Rendered Sightless )

UPDATES :

✘ welcome to the first chapter! this one is considerably longer than all the future ones to both get players used to the format and accommodate for upcoming holidays.  ✘ as allured to, characters will lose one of their five senses as result of the queen’s power. we've used RNG to decide what muses lose what sense, and you can find that under the READ MORE below. please note that these senses will be returned once someone is killed and a body drop post is made . ✘ for reference, characters who lost SIGHT are completely blind and extremely vulnerable as potential victims, characters who lost TASTE have a constant taste of lead in their mouth that will not go away as they cannot taste other flavors, characters who lost TOUCH are completely numb and can not feel ANYTHING -- including pain, characters who lost their HEARING are completely deaf and easy to sneak up on, and characters who lost their SMELL just simply cannot take in any aromas. there is a sixth handicap, but such is reserved for the Old Master as you’ll see below. if FOR SOME REASON your muse’s name is not in the list, let a mod know and we’ll add it. ✘ this ALSO means that WE ARE NOW ACCEPTING MURDERER / VICTIM VOLUNTEERS . please message a mod or send an ask if you wish to volunteer, and do not tell ANYONE if you did and whether you were or were not accepted. ✘ you may no longer kill each other in games of truth or dare, kings game, etc. if you do, the murderer WILL be killed by saeru. you MAY injure each other to your heart’s content without punishment, however, but if you go too far and someone dies, your muse will be held accountable. ✘ further, wounds attained from truth or dare will NO LONGER BE HEALED. you may only buy a medkit or hope to god you get medical supplies from the raffle, otherwise you’re on your own.

Shintaro Kisaragi | TOUCH

Toko Fukawa | SMELL

Hiyori “Ice Queen” Asahina | HEARING

Hiyori “Hiyo” Asahina | SIGHT

Samael | SMELL

Tsubomi Kido | SIGHT

Shuuya Kano | SMELL

Elodie Masters | SIGHT

Satou Matsuzaka | TOUCH

Marry Kozakura |  THE ABILITY TO SPEAK

Katherine Baker | HEARING

Henry "Stein" Dobbs | SMELL

Ayano “Charlatan” Tateyama | SIGHT

Kousuke "Amata" Seto | HEARING

Haruka "Pompompurin" Kokonose | TASTE

Vincent Nightray | TOUCH

Ayano “Aya-nee” Tateyama | SMELL

Korekiyo Shinguji | TOUCH

Magdalena Parks | HEARING

Meredith Dacosta | TOUCH

Rachel Devore | SMELL

Uta | TASTE

Rantaro “Ran” Amami | HEARING

Momo Kisaragi | TOUCH

Hisashi "Usagi" Yoshida | SIGHT

Tempo | SMELL

Rosaline Viviani  | TOUCH

Ayano "Nee-Nee"Tateyama | SMELL

Azami | THE ABILITY TO SPEAK

Tsukihiko Kozakura | SIGHT

Shion Kozakura | HEARING

Tomoyo Daidouji | SIGHT

Valentine Damis | TOUCH

Kousuke “Kose” Seto | SIGHT

Momoka Oginome | HEARING

Satou’s Aunt | SMELL

Kitaumekawa Daichi | TOUCH

Charlotte Wiltshire | TOUCH

Kurogane | HEARING

Yue | SIGHT

Touma Kozakura | HEARING

Rin Kido | SIGHT

Garven | HEARING

Frisk | SMELL

Renji Yomo | TASTE

Ian Ortega | SIGHT